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Copyright N° 

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WINGS AND NO EYES 
































































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Lady Gwendolyn at Work. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


A COMEDY OF LOVE 


BY 

PHILIP CRUTCHER 

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WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
VIRGINIA HARGRAVES WOOD 


“And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind: 

Nor bath love’s mind of any judgment taste ; 

Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste.” 

—Midsummer Night’s Dream. 



THE 

PUBLISHERS 


GRAFTON PRESS 

NEW YORK 


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LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Rerpivprj 


JUN 7 1904 

^ Cooyrtg-ht Entry 

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CLASS fy XXc. No. 

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COPY B 


Copyright, 1904, by 
The Grafton Press 


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To 

MY MOTHER. 




CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I. The Birth of Romance 1 

II. How to Buy a Store 10 

III. A Game for a Love 20 

IY. The Dove Cote and the Tiger’s Lair 27 

V. David Elmore 39 

VI. The Moonlight Picnic 46 

VII. Don Quixote Redivivus 60 

VIII. A Silver Barbecue 72 

IX. Rosamond’s Way 82 

X. A Persistent Suitor 92 

XI. A Party in Prospect 101 

XII. A Lost Sweetheart and a Hopeless Elec- 
tion 109 

XIII. Castle Montmorency 123 

XIV. The Biography of Genius 133 

XV. The Art of Making Love 141 

XVI. A Catastrophe 152 

XVII. A Dinner Conversation 166 

XVIII. Fishing and Fussing 177 

XIX. Mrs. Medlock’s Dilemma 190 

XX. Love’s Conduct 197 

XXI. “But Not for Love” 204 

XXII. John Cobbs to the Rescue 215 

XXIII. The Light Fantastic Toe 226 

XXIV. An Unpleasant Call 237 

XXV. The Pit of Destruction 245 

XXVI. An Amateur Inferno 258 

XXVII. The Ragged Edge of Love 269 

XXVIII. The Flames of Tartarus 274 

XXIX. Mamye Has the Last Word 283 
















































































































































































. 







































ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Lady Gwendolyn at Work Frontispiece 

John Cobbs in Search of a Bride 68 

“But Not for Love” 212 

The Flames of Tartarus 276 




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WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER I. 

THE BIRTH OF ROMANCE. 

W OULD you know, most inquisitive reader, how 
stories are made? Shall I reveal to you the se- 
crets of the craft? Do you wish to penetrate 
into its inner mysteries? 

The process is quite similar to the manner in which 
poor Feathertop was constructed; and although few of us 
intend what we so grandly call “the children of our brains” 
to pose as scarecrows, yet, sad to relate, they frequently 
end as he did. 

Upon a broomstick of fact is placed a pumpkin head for 
a hero. After a large amount of more or less judicious 
padding has entirely covered the original foundation, he 
is decked out in old clothes and bits of ribband. Then his 
fond constructress, having girt a sword of lath to his side, 
calls sharply, “Diccon! A coal for his pipe!” And there- 
upon the callow youth steps out to try his fortune in the 
world. 

But he must continue to smoke. Woe be unto that tale 
which allows the interest of the public to grow cold. Like 
the unfortunate Feathertop, it is cast out from among 
men; and it becomes a laughing-stock to the critics, and a 
source of despair to the book-dealers. 


2 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


Does it amaze you, reader, that I should derive the in- 
spiration of an author from — ahem — the lower regions? It 
is customary for writers to talk grandly of the “divine 
afflatus” and the “celestial muse.” But does not fiction 
consist mainly in lies, and who can inspire such lies so well 
as the father of them? 

Be these things as they may, I do not believe that J ohn 
Cobbs, as he drove steadily along a country road in the 
State of Mississippi one hot day in J uly, had any idea that 
he was a lie. And if you had suggested such a thing to him 
you would probably have had your head broken in two 
seconds. 

He had not the faintest intention of becoming a charac- 
ter in a novel; indeed he had much more important things 
to think of. He thought that his dinner at the farmhouse 
had been dashed bad and dashed dear, except that he used 
stronger adjectives. He knew that the sun was hot; he 
was sure his collar was wilting, and he wondered if the old 
negress had told him the truth, when she said that he could 
reach Judithland before supper-time. 

As for books, he had a very small opinion of them. They 
were good to sell, of course, for a man must live; and in 
order to sell, them it was equally necessary that he should 
know something of their contents. But the superior points 
of his encyclopaedia, as well as the demerits of the others, 
could be most easily learned from the prospectus, and an 
unscrupulous disposition and a mendacious tongue sup- 
plied all deficiencies. 

He had a supreme contempt for the fellow who devoted 
his leisure hours to reading, when there were so many really 
sensible amusements to be found in a live town. Why 
should the idiot shut himself up in his room at the hotel 
like a mud-turtle, when he knew* the poker-rooms were 
running full blast just across the street; where a lot of 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


3 


good fellows had a nice little game with a fifty-cent limit; 
besides a dumb waiter to bring up the liquors and cigars 
and a live black one to serve them ? It was really astonish- 
ing that any man could be such a dashed fool, and he was 
dashed glad that he had been better raised. 

J ohn Cobbs was also engaged in bestowing mental male- 
dictions upon the man whose suggestion had induced him 
to make the present trip. 

It was in the town which he had been working for sev- 
eral days before; and, probably with the hope of relieving 
himself from a persistent nuisance, this man had told him 
that many refined and cultivated people occupied country 
homes on the road to Judithland, and that book agents 
seldom went that way. 

Fired by the thought of conquering a hitherto independ- 
ent country, he had hired a team and had started at sun- 
rise. But his budding hopes were destined to a most griev- 
ous disappointment. 

True, he had found a number of houses whose inmates 
were apparently prosperous in a rural fashion. They would 
willingly have talked to him all day, and a few would even 
have allowed him to talk; but literature was to them what 
x is to the mathematician, with the sole exception that 
it was an unknown quantity which they had no desire to 
solve. 

Some of them read a daily chapter in the Bible, and quite 
a number the weekly newspaper; but when he suggested 
the investment of ninety dollars in an encyclopaedia, even 
though payable as it was at the rate of five dollars per 
month, their native-born politeness hardly restrained them 
from laughing at him. 

And so John Cobbs was angry and tired, and when he 
came to the gate which led to another country residence, 
his first impulse was to pass by on the road to town. 


4 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

But a book agent who becomes discouraged at rebuffs 
would certainly not survive in the struggle for existence; 
and John Cobbs was an organism sufficiently plastic to 
adapt himself to any environment. 

Besides, this mansion seemed to him to be different from 
the places where he had been failing all that morning. 

It stood on a slight eminence in a large enclosure of 
some twenty acres, thickly planted with ancient magnolia 
trees. Their period of bloom had passed; but their dark- 
green foliage formed a charming frame for the house, 
which appeared in their shade like a picture of home and 
comfort. John Cobbs could see only a little of the build- 
ing on account of the trees, but the wide verandas and the 
stately Doric columns convinced him that it was the resi- 
dence of a family of a better class than those with whom 
he had been contending during the day. 

He was certain that people who lived in such a fine 
house would be sufficiently intelligent to require an ency- 
clopaedia and to appreciate his voluble recommendations, 
and if it had been possible his freckled face would have 
glowed with satisfaction. 

But this could not be, because Dame Nature, assisted by 
the sun and sundry draughts from a pocket flask which he 
carried, had already bestowed upon his countenance a 
shade of crimson which effectually prevented him from 
blushing, and which was almost as bright as the color of 
his hair. Indeed, if properly attired, he could have well 
represented the Egyptian god of evil, Typhon, without the 
aid of a mask. 

I would not have you believe for an instant, however, 
that John Cobbs’ character bore more than a faint re- 
semblance to the principle of evil. If I allowed such an 
impression to abide in your thoughts, oh gentle maiden, 
your timid soul would at once endow him with all the 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


5 


attributes of the villain in the play, and raise up dire 
scenes of battle, murder and sudden death, because a red- 
headed book agent was going through a gate which led to 
a plantation home. 

No; John Cobbs was a man like other men. He was 
certainly not immaculate; but if he was no better than the 
average he was likewise no worse, and not at all qualified 
to pose as the villain in the story. 

Having decided to try his luck once more, John stepped 
out of his buggy for the purpose of opening the large car- 
riage gate, which barred a well-kept winding road leading 
up to the country mansion. He found, however, that the 
gate was fastened with two stout padlocks. This evidence 
of inhospitality was exceedingly uncommon, and puzzled 
our book agent considerably. 

But there was a smaller gate for the use of pedestrians 
which was not locked; and after hitching his horse to the 
fence and obtaining his case of samples from the back of 
the buggy, John walked slowly up the shady avenue in the 
direction of the house. The comparative coolness was very 
pleasant to him after his hot, sunny drive, and he thought 
how fine it would be if he could spend a week lying in a 
hammock under the trees and doing absolutely nothing. 
He speedily realized that he had no prospect of such a 
vacation, but as he advanced he became more and more 
convinced that his chances for selling an encyclopaedia 
were quite good. 

When he had gone about half the distance from the gate 
to the house a peculiar noise attracted his attention. It 
sounded like a person beating vigorously on a tin pan, and 
John at once supposed that the old method of persuading 
a swarm of bees that it was going to rain was in opera- 
tion. 

His supposition, however, was speedily corrected when 


6 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

a turn of the road revealed to him a strange sight which 
startled even his equanimity. 

Upon a level, shady place under the trees two men at- 
tired in tin armor were hanging each other with swords, 
as John Cobbs afterward expressed it, “to beat the band.” 
The combat was progressing in the usual stage fashion, 
where the swords are struck together first above, and then 
below, and then above again, with every precaution against 
hitting your antagonist. 

At one side of the arena, upon a carved oak chair, a 
young woman was seated. She was attired in a loose gown 
of purple silk, caught in at the waist by a golden belt, and 
embroidered across the breast with three golden lions. Her 
sleeves were so wide at the wrist that they almost reached 
the ground, and their borders were also richly embellished 
with gold thread. Upon her head she wore a conical cap 
about two feet high, encircled at its base by a golden crown, 
while from its apex depended a lace veil which fell about 
her shoulders. 

Her long, black hair was braided in two heavy plaits, 
which hung upon either side of her face and extended 
down in front of her. Her face itself was somewhat pre- 
possessing. She had a white, smooth skin, a small mouth 
and good teeth; although the novelist perceives the latter, 
and not the book agent. Her nose had a saucy tip-tilt 
which contrasted strangely with the serious expression in 
her large eyes. 

Add to these characteristics a height of nearly six feet, 
and a form verging upon stoutness, and you have a fair de- 
scription of the maiden upon whom John Cobbs’ bewil- 
dered gaze fell that July afternoon. 

Kneeling in front of the seated lady a slim, yellow 
woman, clad in a variegated dress of orange and blue, sup- 
ported a thin board upon her back which her mistress was 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


7 


using as a table. And near her right side a small, black 
boy, in a fantastic costume of the same colors, also knelt, 
and held a gold-mounted ram’s horn which apparently con- 
tained ink. 

When John approached, the seated lady had ceased her 
writing and was gazing fixedly at nothing, with an intense, 
earnest expression upon her countenance ; while she held a 
quill pen poised in the air as if ready for instant use. 

The fighting knights beat rhythmically, but just as our 
visitor paused in amazement at the scene before him one 
of them missed his guard and received the full force of his 
antagonist’s blow upon the shield which he held on his 
arm. 

He dropped his sword and shield at once and seized his 
left arm with his right hand, while something which 
sounded very much like a naughty word escaped from be- 
tween the bars of his visor. 

“Sir Damian,” said the seated lady, in an austere voice, 
“I am surprised at you.” 

“Yes, Mistis,” returned the man in armor. “I’s sorry, 
but he hit me on de arm.” 

“Well, resume your weapons,” she replied, “and pro- 
ceed with the combat. And remember always, both of you, 
that a knight must never drop his sword.” 

Whereupon, as if an idea had suddenly seized her, she 
dipped her pen in the ram’s horn and commenced to write 
rapidly upon the paper on the board before her. 

While John Cobbs stood in uncertainty as to what he 
ought to do, an elderly lady, who was standing near the 
seated woman, came forward and accosted him. 

She was short and fat, and her dress was like her com- 
panion’s in design. Her gown, however, was of sapphire 
blue, with a silver girdle, and a large boar’s head em- 
broidered in silver on her breast. Instead of a golden 


8 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

crown she had a silver coronet of oak and strawberry leaves 
interlaced, and she carried on her wrist a papier-mache 
imitation of a hawk, which was exceedingly life-like. 

She raised a pair of gold-mounted lorgnettes to her eyes 
and examined her visitor critically. 

“Fair sir,” she said, in a low voice, “what do you want?” 

“I beg pardon, Miss,” commenced our hook agent, “but 
is the keeper here?” 

“The Lord Keeper of the Seal, mean you?” she re- 
ponded. “No, he bides not at this castle. What do you 
want?” 

“I want to see the doctor in charge, Miss. Fve got 
something here that will interest him.” 

“There’s no leech here,” she said, quickly, but in the 
same low voice. “And you must go at once, or I will have 
the dogs set on you. That is,” she corrected, “I will have 
the warders fling you from the battlements.” 

“But, Miss,” he expostulated, “there must he somebody 
in charge, and I want to show him my encyclopaedia. It’s 
mighty full on the subject of — well, you know — sick peo- 
ple.” 

“There’s nobody sick here,” she said, “and we can’t stop 
to look at books. If you will come hack in a month we will 
see about it, hut you must go now. If you were to inter- 
rupt her it might be weeks before she could go on. Please 
go.” 

“Well, Miss,” he replied, “I don’t want to worry you, 
and as there don’t seem to he anybody ’round but looneys, 
I reckon I’ll go. I’m sorry I ain’t seen the doctor, though. 
Can’t I just go up to the house to see him a minute?” 

“No,” she said positively, clenching her fist as she spoke, 
“you must go at once,— now. If Gwendolyn were to see 
you, you might spoil everything. You must go.” 

“Well,” he said, as he turned away, “I don’t like to go 


WINGS AND NO EYES 9 

without showing my books, hut I reckon I’ll have to. 
Good-day, Miss.” 

“ Good-afternoon,” she replied. “That is, gin ye god 
den, fair sir.” 

“That’s the dashedest funny madhouse I ever got onto,” 
said our book agent to himself, as he walked rapidly down 
the avenue. “There don’t seem to be nobody in charge 
of the looneys, and where in h — 1 did they get their crazy 
clothes?” 

While John Cobhs was resuming his journey toward 
J udithland I wish to make a few remarks in regard to the 
use of profane language. I regret to say that our friend 
was in the habit of garnishing his conversation with an 
assortment of more or less vigorous oaths; and, as a con- 
scientious novelist, I would prefer to report his speeches 
as they were actually uttered. But John himself never 
cursed in the presence of ladies; and, as the audience of a 
writer of fiction is largely feminine, I have in the following 
pages suppressed most of his profanity and substituted 
milder expletives. I am aware that this is an offense 
against truth, but I am sure that in the present instance 
the end justifies the means; and, besides, as I remarked at 
the commencement of this chapter, fiction is mostly lies, 
anyhow. 


10 


WINGS MD NO EYES 


CHAPTER II. 

HOW TO BUY A STORE. 

I T was quite late when John Cobbs arrived at Judith- 
land. Oh! he was tired, and hot, and dirty, and after 
putting up his team at the livery stable and making 
arrangements to have it returned to its owner the next 
day, he was very glad to have his supper and retire to his 
room at the only hotel as soon as possible. 

He was curious to know something about the house 
where he had stopped that afternoon, but he felt so cross 
that he thought it best to have no unnecessary conversa- 
tion. Since he had been a book agent he had learned that 
good policy required him to keep his temper to himself, so 
far as possible. He came near having a quarrel with a 
stranger at the stable about the distance which he had 
come that day. He knew the man was right, but he in- 
sisted that he was wrong merely because he was entirely 
used up. fi 

Indeed, we are most of us that way. There is not one 
person in a thousand who is willing to admit frankly that 
he is mistaken, even if he has become convinced of it in 
his own mind. If cornered, where there is no escape from 
incontrovertible facts, he will almost invariably become 
angry. And when I use the masculine pronoun, I refer to 
the feminine also. You may be sure that I do. 

John did not arise the next morning until nearly nine 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


11 


o'clock, which was an unusual occurrence in his life, for 
his energetic disposition generally drove him from his bed 
about six. It had rained and turned cooler during the 
night; and this, combined with his long sleep and the fact 
that the hotel was new and much better than the ordinary 
country inn, put him in a very good humor and made him 
look upon the world in a more optimistic frame of mind. 

He rather admired Judithland. It seemed to be a thriv- 
ing little town surrounded by a rich section of country, 
and he thought that it might do well if it were not for 
their dashed prohibition nonsense. 

To be sure, he had done a pretty good business in pro- 
hibition towns recently, but no gentleman really wants to 
travel where he has to treat his friends in his own room. 
It is too much trouble, and it does not seem sociable, 
either, when a man is used to the real thing, concocted by 
an expert and served over a gorgeous mahogany bar in a 
room whose walls are covered with works of art and whose 
shelves are lined with cut glass. 

He was just meditating how he would find out where to 
go to have his flask refilled, when a small boy came into the 
hotel rotunda and thrust a bill into his hand. This an- 
nounced in large letters that the entire stock, furniture 
and fixtures of Trescott’s bookstore would be sold that day 
at public auction to the highest bidder for cash, regardless 
of cost. It was stated that the sale would commence at 
twelve o’clock, and that the stock would be divided into 
lots to suit purchasers. 

John Cobbs had been on the lookout for an opportunity 
of this kind for a number of months. He had saved some 
money and had inherited a small house in his native town 
which he could easily sell, and he was anxious to settle 
down in a business of his own and stop traveling. 

He thought Judithland would suit him very well, in 


12 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


spite of its prohibition, and he stepped up to the clerk to 
make a few inquiries. 

"I say, Bo,” he began, spreading the hill out in front of 
him, “do you know anything about this?” 

“Oh, Trescott. Yes,” responded the clerk. “He ; s kept 
a bookstore ‘round the corner for about twenty years. The 
old fellow died last month, and his wife’s going to sell out 
and go to live with her son in Vicksburg. They tell me 
he’s doing mighty well over there. I’ve been trying to get 
the old man to put in a news-stand here, but he’s afraid 
somebody else will get the store, and he don’t think there’s 
room for two. Here, Front,” he continued to the bellboy, 
“sixteen wants a pitcher of ice water.” 

“Did old Trescott have a pretty good trade?” asked 
John. 

“Well, yes, a right good trade. He didn’t make no for- 
tune out of it, hut he made a living, and he laid up some- 
thing, too. I should say that with her five thousand from 
the Woodmen of the World, Mrs. Trescott ought to be 
worth about fifteen thousand, and that ain’t bad for a 
country town, you know.” 

“No, that’s good enough,” said John. “Can you tell 
me where I can find the old lady?” 

“If you want to see her on business,” returned the clerk, 
“you’d better see Horace Layton. He’s her attorney, and 
he’s been settling up the old man’s estate. His office is 
upstairs over the bookstore, and that’s the second door 
’round the corner that way,” he continued, pointing with 
his hand. 

John Cobb always prided himself upon making up his 
mind quickly. 

“What’s the use in studying about a thing?” he would 
sav. “If you want to do it, do it right off and don’t go 
fooling ’round.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


13 


When he reached the store he stepped inside and asked 
the young girl who came to wait on him for a New Orleans 
paper. While she went to get it he looked critically around 
the shop. What he saw evidently pleased him, for he 
smiled slightly. 

The store contained a few shelves of novels and a mis- 
cellaneous assortment of stationery and fancy articles, such 
as are usually found in similar establishments in small 
towns. Near the door was a glass showcase where tobacco 
was displayed, the sight of which broadened John’s smile 
into a grin. Near the cigar lighter a jet black cat was 
slumbering peacefully. 

The general appearance of the store indicated thrift and 
enterprise on a small scale, and there was an air of neat- 
ness about the stock which betrayed a feminine touch. 

“I say, Miss,” said John to the girl when she returned 
with his paper, “they tell me you’re going to be sold out 
this morning.” 

“Yes, sir,” she replied, somewhat sadly. “Everything is 
to be sold at twelve o’clock to-day. I don’t know where I 
can find another place.” 

“Why, I reckon places are rather scarce in this little 
town. But what do you want with another one? A good- 
looking girl like you ought to get married.” 

“They won’t anybody ask me,” she said, smiling. “You 
ain’t looking for a wife, sir, are you?” 

“No; I’m already married,” John returned, chuckling. 
“Got a wife and six small children, three of them in the 
arms.” 

“Triplets?” she said. “I’m sorry for you, sir. That’s 
worse than being out of a place. You must have an awful 
hard time.” 

“Oh, medium, medium,” said John. “A fellow gets 


14 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

used to troubles of that kind. Do you do a pretty good 
business here, Miss?" 

“Why, yes, sir. Mr. Trescott said it used to be better 
before the hard times came on, but it’s been right good, 
anyway." 

“Are you running the machine since old Trescott died, 
Miss?" 

“Pretty much so-, yes, sir. Mr. Layton is in charge, but 
I stay here all day and do the selling, and Mr. Clark comes 
in the evening to write up the books." 

“And where might I find this fellow Layton?" 

“Why, his office is upstairs; but he don't generally get 
down before ten. It’s most ten now, though," she went 
on, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

“Well, I’ll go upstairs," said John. “And you take my 
advice about getting married, Miss,” he continued, as he 
turned away. 

“If your wife dies and you poison the children, come 
back and see me," she called after him as he went out of 
the door. 

John had to wait only a few minutes upstairs in company 
with the diminutive office boy before the person whom he 
came to see arrived. 

“Mr. Layton?" he asked, rising. “Cobbs my name. I 
understand you’ve got the store downstairs to sell." 

“Why, Mr. Cobbs, I am charmed to make your acquaint- 
ance," returned the lawyer, suavely, as he shook hands 
with his visitor. “Take a chair. When did you come to 
town? Jerry, get the gentleman some ice-water." 

“No, thanks,” said John. “I got here yesterday. Have 
you got the store downstairs to sell?" 

“Why, yes, it is to be sold to-day at auction. You see, 
Mrs. Trescott wants to get her affairs straightened up as 
soon as possible so that she can leave town, and we are 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


15 


going to sell out everything, including the fixtures. Are 
you interested in bookstores, Mr. Cobbs ?” 

“Things generally go pretty cheap at auctions,” said 
John. 

“Why, sometimes, I admit that they do,” returned the 
attorney. “But there has been considerable interest 
aroused in this sale around town, and a number of people 
are going to bid; and, while we expect some lots to go for 
less than they are worth, I think that we will make it up 
on others.” 

“Don't think you will. What will you take for the whole 
business?” 

“Why, I will have to consider about that. We had not 
expected to sell out that way. Let me see the invoices, 
Jerry. They are over there in the pigeon-hole on the right. 
Ah, here we are,” he continued, as he turned over the pa- 
pers. “The entire stock, with the furniture and fixtures, 
was invoiced at five thousand, eight hundred and fifty-two 
dollars and sixty-one cents. Now, the good-will of the 
business is worth at least five thousand; hut as Mrs. Tres- 
cott is anxious to get away, we will waive that point and 
knock off the extra eight hundred and odd dollars and let 
you have the entire affair, lock, stock and barrel, for five 
thousand, cash. What do you say?” 

“If the goods agree with the invoices,” said John, “I’ll 
give you two thousand.” 

“My dear sir; I could^not think of recommending any 
such price to my client. Why, consider the value of the 
business. You can easily clear twenty-five hundred to 
three thousand dollars a year, and fifty per cent, on your 
investment certainly is a good return. Give me five thou- 
sand.” 

“Two thousand goes; no more.” 

“Why, Mrs. Trescott wants to get away,” said the attor- 


16 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


ney, “and she might be willing to take forty-five hundred. 
It is simply robbery to ask her, hut if you will take it at 
that I will go to see her about it at once.” 

“No,” said John. “Two thousand is plenty. I won’t 
give any more.” 

“Well, then, I see that we can’t trade, Mr. Cobbs. I 
cannot see my client give away her property. And yet, 
auction sales are any amount of bother. Wouldn’t you 
consider it at four?” 

“No,” said John, determinedly. “I’ll come up two 
hundred and no more. You can’t get twelve hundred for 
it at auction, and you know it.” 

“Well,” the lawyer returned, rising and extending his 
hand. “I see that we cannot trade, and so I will have to 
ask you to excuse me, Mr. Cobbs. I have a number of 
things to attend to before the sale. I hope that you will 
be with us some time, and that I shall have the pleasure 
of seeing you again. Judithland is a good town, and we 
would like to have you settle here.” 

“Give you twenty-five hundred,” said John Cobbs. 

“Why, now, Mr. Cobbs,” responded the attorney, “to tell 
you the truth, we hate to see the bookstore broken up. It’s 
the only one in town, and it would be very inconvenient 
here without it. If you will give three thousand I will 
recommend Mrs. Trescott to take it.” 

“Split the difference and she goes,” said John. 

“Well,” Horace Layton replied, “I don’t feel like I am 
doing right by my client in letting it go so cheap. But 
it’s a great nuisance to sell things in small lots at auction, 
so I will go up to see Mrs. Trescott, and if she is willing 
you can have it for twenty-seven fifty. Will you wait for 
me here? I won’t be gone ten minutes.” 

“I’ll wait downstairs,” said John. “And, say,” he con- 


WINGS AND NO EYES 17 

timied, as they went out of the door, "you must throw in 
the girl for good measure. I’m stuck on her looks.” 

“Miss Mamye, you mean? Yes, she’s a nice girl, and a 
right good clerk, too.” 

“Now, what has she been getting a month, Bo?” 

“Twenty dollars is what Trescott paid her, and I kept 
her on at the same after he died. I have no doubt that she 
would be glad to stay with you.” 

“All right, Bo. I reckon she will. She’d be a dashed 
funny duck if she didn’t.” 

J ohn Cobbs placed his paper carefully in his coat pocket, 
and after pausing in front of the store to light a cigar, 
he put his hands in his trousers pockets and sauntered 
slowly back to the rear of the store where the “saleslady” 
was seated. The consciousness of having made an excel- 
lent bargain added to his cheerfulness and to his good opin- 
ion of his own business ability. The girl rose and came 
forward as he approached. 

“Sit down, Miss Mamye, sit down,” he said, as he 
perched himself on an office stool and tilted his hat on the 
back of his head. “It’s a fine day for an auction.” 

“Yes,” she replied. “It’s rather warm, though.” 

“You ain’t found that place I was talking to you about 
yet, have you?” he asked, with a grin. 

“Your wife ain’t dead, is she?” returned the girl. “Be- 
cause if she is I won’t say yes unless you get rid of the 
children.” 

“Oh, you won’t mind the children. There’s only six, 
and they’re regular beauties, just like me.” 

She looked at him critically, with an amused expression 
in her large black eyes. 

“They must be beautiful” she said. “But an old 
widower is bad enough to take care of without a whole lot 
of children.” 


18 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“You don’t know what a nice fellow I am,” he re- 
sponded. “I’m a regular lady-killer.” 

“Of all things, I despise a married flirt,” she said. “If 
I marry you, you won’t do no more flirting. I’ll put my 
foot square down on that.” 

He cast his eyes down to the floor where the tips of her 
toes were projecting from underneath her dress. 

“Ho,” he replied, “a little foot like that couldn’t stop 
nothing.” 

“You wait and see,” she returned, as she rose and went 
to the front of the store, where an elderly gentleman had 
entered and stopped in front of the tobacco counter. 

After supplying him with some cigars and changing a 
five-dollar bill, she attended to the wants of a tiny negro 
boy, who asked for “fibe cents’ wuth ob tizu paper, ob ebry 
color dat dare is.” This requisition took her some time to 
fill, as there happened to be more shades in the drawer 
than there were sheets in five cents’ worth, and in conclud- 
ing such an important purchase the small darkey was nat- 
urally deliberate in making up his mind which to choose. 

She had just completed the transaction when Horace 
Layton came in. 

“Good-morning, Miss Mamye,” he said. “Well, Mr. 
Cobbs, it’s all right and the bargain is closed. Do you 
want to make the transfer right away?” 

“Yes,” said John. “I’d like to do it to-day.” 

“Very well. Here are the invoices, with the cost price 
of each article. If you like to check over the stock, Miss 
Mamye can help you while I draw up the bill of sale. This 
is Mr. Cobbs, Miss Mamye Clay. Mr. Cobbs has bought the 
store.” 

“Yes, and if you want to stay at the same rate, Miss 
Mamye, you can,” said John. “I reckon we will get on all 
right together.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 19 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Mamye Clay. “I should like to 
keep the place.” 

“Now, how do you propose to pay, Mr. Cobbs ?” asked 
the lawyer. 

“Why, my money is deposited in the Sixteenth National 
in New Orleans. If you wire them they’ll tell you it’s all 
right.” 

“Very well, then. I will get the hank to telegraph them, 
and if you get through we will make the transfer this even- 
ing.” 

After a day of hard work the sale was finally completed 
at about eleven o’clock, and Horace Layton having under- 
taken to accompany Miss Mamye to her home, John Cobbs 
locked his store and went to bed in the hotel, with the 
proud consciousness that he was at last a prominent busi- 
ness man in a thriving town. 


20 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER III. 


A GAME FOR A LOVE. 


OHN COBBS spent the next morning in investigat- 



ing his new business and making arrangements for 


v-F its proper transaction. He wrote to a real estate agent 
in his native town for the purpose of placing his cottage 
on sale. This would give him some additional capital, 
which he foresaw would be very useful,. He planned many 
improvements and additions to the store, and he intended 
to carry them into effect as soon as circumstances would 


permit. 


So occupied was he that he actually forgot his pocket 
flask, and it was five o’clock before the insistent demands 
of habit forced him to remember that he had not had a 
drink for two whole days. 

He had just resolved to go upstairs to ask Horace Lay- 
ton where he could obtain some whisky, when that gentle- 
man entered the store, accompanied by a smaller man, who 
appeared to be a number of years his junior. 

“Mr. Cobbs,” the lawyer said, “this is Mr. Elmore. 
There are several of us who have been in the habit of 
dropping in here summer afternoons to play chess. I sup- 
pose you don’t mind?” 

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Elmore,” said John, shaking 
hands with the newcomer. “Why, of course I don’t mind, 
Bo. I’ll take a hand myself. Is chess anything like poker?” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


21 


“No,” said Horace Layton, laughing. “Not very much. 
There is no poker game running here just now, but if we 
start one in the fall Fll put you on. We can teach you to 
play chess, too, if you like. You don’t play for money.” 

“Oh,” said John, with a falling inflection and sudden 
lack of interest in his voice. “You’re welcome to play 
here, fellows, whenever you like. I’m dashed sorry I can’t 
treat, but you see how it is,” he continued, holding up his 
empty flask and looking through it. “Can you tell me 
where to go?” 

“ Why, there’s a man here on Elm street who can fill it,” 
the attorney replied, “but it’s mighty poor stuff. You go 
to the negro shoemaker’s shop and ask if he has any mo- 
lasses, and he will show you how to get it. You had better 
order direct from the distiller, though, if you need much. 
I have to defend that negro every now and then,” he con- 
tinued, “but I’ve quit buying from him.” 

“I can’t get along without it,” said John. “I don’t see 
how you fellows stand it. Dashed if I could.” 

“Why, Dave here never did drink, except at people’s 
houses once in awhile,” returned the attorney. “I used to 
tank up regular before the county went dry, but since then 
I’ve gradually gotten out of the habit. You see, a man 
can’t drink by himself, and it isn’t much fun to have to 
take your friends to your office, with nothing to offer them 
but plain whisky and water. And then my jug was always 
giving out and 1 couldn’t stand the blind tiger article, and 
so I gradually got out of the habit. I’ve got some beer in 
my office now, if you would like to have some. I hardly 
ever drink even that now myself.” 

“Why, thanks, Bo,” said John. “That’ll do fine till I 
can get something stronger.” 

“Well, let’s go upstairs,” said Horace. “Won’t you have 
some, Dave?” 


22 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

“No, I thank you,” said David Elmore. “I will wait 
for you here.” 

They returned in a few minutes, and John offered the 
other two men cigars, which David refused. 

“ You ought to learn to smoke, Davy,” said the lawyer, as 
he tilted himself back in an office chair and struck a match 
on the sole of his shoe. “You don’t know how much fun 
you are missing. And say,” he continued, after puffing 
vigorously at his cigar and getting it comfortably aglow, 
“I saw Jim Houston out on the street just now. He said 
he would be in in a few minutes. I want to make him 
play you a. game to see which shall go to see Miss Columba 
to-night. Bless my boots, how the boy does blush. I say, 
Davy, you look like a schoolgirl.” 

And in fact David Elmore’s cheeks had become almost 
as red as John Cobbs’ neck. David was a handsome young 
fellow, slightly built, with curly yellow hair and a smooth, 
white face, on which the color came and went on very 
slight provocation. 

“I don’t want to go there,” he stammered. “I don’t go 
there. I haven’t been there for a long time.” 

“I know you haven’t,” returned the attorney. “It has 
been a whole week, and Jim Houston will, cut you out if 
you don’t mind, ’cause he comes every night; and, speaking 
of angels, here he comes now.” 

The doctor, who entered the store just then, was a large, 
muscular man with jet black hair and a black, pointed 
beard. There was a determined look about his dark eyes 
which seemed to indicate a man accustomed to having his 
own way. 

“This is Mr. Cobbs, Dr. Houston,” said Horace. “I say, 
Jim, I want you and David to play a game to see which 
shall go to see Miss Columba to-night. Dave’s willing if 
you are.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


23 


“Em not,” said David. “I’m not going.” 

“Why, I will play you, Dave, with a great deal of pleas- 
ure, if I'm not called out,” said the doctor. “I left word 
at Wood’s that they could telephone me here if I was 
wanted.” 

“Now, come off, Jim,” said Horace Layton, laughing. 
“We know all about your practice, so it’s no use putting 
on to us. These young doctors are funny, Mr. Cobbs,” he 
continued. “I was walking out Great Street the other day, 
and here came Jim driving like Jehu, the son of Nimshi. 
Anybody w^ould have thought that twenty people were 
dying and only waiting for him to help them off easy. And, 
bless my boots, I hadn’t gone half a square before he came 
tearing back again. You ought to go ’round the other way, 
Jim. Oh, go on and play, Dave. We won’t bother you 
any more. I want to talk to Mr. Cobbs.” 

Dr. Houston smiled slightly during the lawyer’s speech, 
but without making any reply, he arose and took down a 
chessboard and men from a shelf near by, and he and 
David Elmore were soon intent upon the game. 

“Where are you stopping, Mr. Cobbs?” asked Horace. 

“I’m at the hotel now, Bo; but I want to get some other 
place. It comes too high for my health.” 

“I can take you to my boarding-house,” said the attor- 
ney. “Mrs. Wilmot will be glad to have you. She hasn’t 
any vacant room, but there is one upstairs back of my office 
that you could rent for five dollars a month.” 

“Thanks, Bo, that’s a good scheme. What might the 
old lady charge for board?” 

“ She’ll take you for five a week. She sets the best table 
in town, but she charges the same as the other boarding- 
houses. I’ll take you to supper with me if you like, and 
you can make arrangements with her.” 

“All right, Bo. It’s a go. And, say,” John continued. 


24 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


"I want to ask you about something before I forget it. I 
struck the dashedest funny madhouse out here when I was 
coming in I ever saw. The looneys were racking ’round 
the yard without anybody to boss ’em. You think it’s 
safe?” 

"Why, there isn’t any asylum near here,” said Horace, 
somewhat surprised. “Whereabouts did you see it?” 

“ ’Bout five miles out. It was a good-looking place, and 
I thought I’d sell some books. The big gate was locked, 
so I walked up the road, and I’m dashed if I didn’t see two 
looneys in tin clothes banging at each other with sticks, to 
beat the band. A big girl with a blue horn on her head 
was sitting down, and a nigger was squatting in front of 
her with a board on her back. It was the dashedest outfit 
I ever saw, and I’ve seen a lot.” 

While John Cobbs was speaking the incredulous ex- 
pression on the face of the lawyer suddenly changed, and 
at his conclusion he burst into a roar of laughter, which 
startled the chess players and interrupted the game for a 
few minutes. 

“Why, man,” he said, as soon as he was able to speak, 
“you must have seen Gwendolyn.” 

“Gwen what?” returned the ex-book agent. “Is that 
what you call the madhouse?” 

“They are not mad,” replied the attorney, still laugh- 
ing. “That was Gwendolyn Rowena Montmorency, the 
celebrated novelist.” 

“Who’s she?” 

“You don’t mean to say you never heard of Gwendolyn? 
Haven’t you read 'The River of Blood,’ or 'Love and 
Death’?” 

“Never heard of them. What are they?” 

“Why, they are stories, — novels. You make part of your 


WINGS AND NO EYES 25 

living selling them. You’ve about forty copies of her 
works out in front now.” 

“You say they ain’t crazy? What were they doing it 
for?” 

“She’s writing a novel, and that’s the way she gets up 
local color. She says the inspiration doesn’t come unless 
she dresses the part. She makes about thirty thousand dol- 
lars a year at it.” 

“Thirty thousand!” exclaimed John Cobbs. “Oh, come 
off, Bo, you can’t stuff me.” 

“Why, it’s true,” said the attorney, “ain’t it, Jim? She 
is a funny girl, though. Her father’s name was plain J ohn 
Smith, and he made a pile of money and bought that place 
from a fellow named Broadnax. Gwendolyn and her aunt 
went to Europe after her father died, about ten years ago, 
and stayed until Gwendolyn started writing, when they 
came hack here, and she’s been hard at it ever since. Gwen- 
dolyn was christened Mary, but she don’t let anybody call 
her that since she found out she could write. She fired 
old Dr. Chester because he called her Miss Smith one day 
about four months ago, and took up with Jim here.” 

“Yes,” chimed in the doctor, “and she is the best pa- 
tient I ever struck. She thought she had palpitation of 
the heart about a month ago and sent for me. There really 
was not anything the matter with her, — her heart is as 
sound as mine, — but, of course, I couldn’t tell her that. I 
went there for four or five days, and I will be doggoned if 
an old nigger guy didn’t meet me at the gate every time 
and make me put on a yellow gown and a white beard and 
wig and a fur cap. She paid me twenty-five dollars a 
visit, though, and I hope her heart will palpitate some 
more before long at the same price.” 

“Why, by all accounts, Jim,” said Horace, smiling, 
“your heart is not as sound as you make out. At least 


26 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


Miss Columba don’t think so. You needn’t look so em- 
barrassed, Dave. Everybody knows that you and Jim are 
rivals. And, bless my boots,” he continued, looking at 
the chessboard, “if you haven’t let him smash you all to 
pieces in a few moves. Why, man, don’t you see that he’s 
bound to catch your queen in three or four moves? You 
might as well give that game up, Davy. The doctor will 
go to see Miss Columba to-night. There goes the closing 
bell, anyhow. You can walk home with Miss Mamye, 
Dave, to console yourself. She’s sitting out in front there 
looking as lonesome as a young lawyer waiting for a 
client.” 

David Elmore muttered something indistinctly about not 
being able to play on account of a headache, took his straw 
hat in his hand, and walked slowly towards the front of 
the store. He said a few words to Miss Mamye Clay, who 
smiled; and after she had judiciously employed about five 
minutes in putting on her hat and patting her hair in front 
of a small glass, she bade a laughing good-night to the 
other gentlemen and went off with David. 

“You know the stores close at six-thirty in summer, 
don’t you, Mr. Cobbs?” Horace remarked. “After your 
man shuts up we will go to see Mrs. Wilmot. Are you 
coming to tea, Jim?” 

The doctor excused himself on the ground of visiting a 
patient and drove off in his buggy, and after John Cobbs 
had seen that his store was properly closed for the night, 
he put the key into his trousers pocket and he and Horace 
sauntered up the street. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


27 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE DOVE COTE AND THE TIGERS LAIR. 

W HILE the two young men were strolling toward 
Mrs. Wilmot/s hoarding-house, John Cobbs rap- 
idly formed a plan of action which transcended 
in importance any design that he had hitherto conceived. 

Here was a young, unmarried woman with an income of 
thirty thousand dollars a year, besides her other property, 
living in the country, without a man to take care of her. 

Why should he not marry her? He had not the re- 
motest idea that he would fail to win if he tried, and he 
considered that even if thirty thousand a year was not an 
equivalent for his own superlative merits, yet it would be 
very much better than peddling hooks or keeping a book- 
store. 

My gentle maiden reader, within whose breast the pleas- 
ing thoughts of Hymen are only just beginning to stir, do 
you think that all marriages are love matches? Well, in 
fact, they are; but not in the sense in which you under- 
stand it. 

Ninety-nine men out of every hundred are dead in love 
with themselves, and they naturally suppose that any girl 
who possesses good taste is in the same condition. If she 
is coy, it is only proper maidenly reserve, and he is the 
more persistent to overcome it. If she displays her prefer- 
ence, it is a natural tribute to his attractions, and he basks 
in the sunshine of her refined discrimination. 


28 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


There still remains the hundredth man, and if you per- 
severe you may learn much about him between the covers 
of this book. You will not approve of his conduct; no 
woman does, even if she should happen to admire the man 
himself. He lives and moves, however, and therefore can 
hardly avoid coming into a story occasionally. 

But, my dear maiden, you must not blame John Cobbs 
for having mercenary views of matrimony. He knew that 
women always fell in love with him; and, as he could not 
marry them all, he, of course, was in search of the one with 
the most money. For John thoroughly understood the 
value of a good income, and was determined not to let him- 
self go until he obtained one. Women expected men to 
give up so many pleasures when they married that it was 
only fair for them to furnish a slight compensation in the 
way of a fortune. 

"I say, Bo,” he commenced, after they had walked a 
short distance; “this Miss Gwen — what’s her name? Are 
you sure that she makes that much money?” 

“Why, certainty,” returned the lawyer. “I attend to her 
law business. Her father left nearly two hundred thou- 
sand when he died, and she was the only child. Her 
mother died years ago.” 

“Who was the old duck that ordered me off, then?” 

“That must have been her aunt, Miss Grimes; or, as 
Gwendolyn has rechristened her, Miss Zenobia Dread- 
naught. She lives there with her niece.” 

“I should think some fellow would have married her 
before now, if she gets that much money,” 1 said John. 
“Why didn’t you try?” 

“What! Gwendolyn?” replied the attorney, laughing. 
“Not much. She isn’t my style. I would not take her for 
less than five times what she has.” 

“What’s the matter with her, Bo?” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


29 


“Why, man, she’d make you dress up in tin armor 
when she was writing a book and go prancing around with 
a sword and shield fighting her negroes. One time she 
nearly starved herself and her aunt to death because her 
heroine was besieged in a castle and she could not manage 
a satisfactory way for the hero to rescue her. The darkeys 
used to slip into town after night and get something to 
eat, but she and her aunt were on bread and water for 
nearly two weeks before she got it fixed. Not any Gwendo- 
lyn in mine, thank you.” 

“I’d like to see a woman make me do what I didn’t want 
to,” said John. “I’d show her a thing or two, dashed if I 
wouldn’t.” 

“Well, then, go in and win,” responded Horace. “Gwen- 
dolyn is not a bad-looking girl, if you like them large. I 
don’t much myself. I like a girl about five feet five, but 
Gwendolyn must be pretty near six.” 

“That don’t matter, Bo, if she’s got the stuff. Can you 
give me an introduction?” 

“Not very well until she finishes her present novel. She 
doesn’t see anybody while she is at work. I don’t exactly 
see how you got in. She generally has the gates guarded.” 

“Why, one of the dashed looneys was hollering at me 
after I got out, but I didn’t stop. How long will it take 
to finish her book?” 

“Here’s Mrs. Wilmot’s,” said the attorney, opening the 
gate. “They are all sitting on the front gallery. She gen- 
erally writes a story in about three months,” he continued, 
as they went up the walk, “and she’s been working on this 
nearly two. If you are really in earnest, though, I’d advise 
you to rerad her other stories while you are waiting. That’s 
the first question she asks strangers, and you wouldn’t 
have much chance if you hadn’t. This is Mr. Cobbs, Mrs. 
Wilmot, Miss Wilmot, Mrs. Medlock. Mr. Cobbs is look- 


30 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


ing for a temporary abiding place in the wilderness, Mrs. 
Wilmot, and I suggested that he come to see you about it. 
Or, in other words, Mrs. Wilmot, he wants board.” 

“I have no vacant room, Mr. Cobbs,” said Mrs. Wilmot, 
smiling. She was a small woman with a sweet voice and 
a pleasant face, although her countenance displayed much 
patient weariness. The brown hair upon her head was just 
beginning to be sprinkled with gray. 

“Mr. Cobbs will rent the room over his store for a lodg- 
ing,” Horace explained. “ You know I told you this morn- 
ing that he had bought out Mrs. Treseott. He only desires 
to partake of your good things three times per day, Mrs. 
Wilmot. I told him your terms, and that your table was 
the best in the United States, and he is exceedingly happy 
thereat.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Layton,” said Mrs. Wilmot. “I shall 
be very glad to have Mr. Cobbs. I was just going to see 
about tea when you came in,” she Continued, rising. “You 
will stay to-night, I suppose, Mr. Cobbs? It will be ready 
in about half an hour.” 

“Thank you, ma’am,” John replied. “Fve got some 
business with a fellow downtown, and I’ll get supper at the 
hotel. I’ll begin at breakfast to-morrow.”' 

“Breakfast is at eight o’clock,” she said. “Well, good- 
evening. I will see you to-morrow, then.” 

While this conversation was in progress Mrs. Medlock 
was listening with barely concealed impatience. She was 
one of those buxom matrons who naturally consider all 
talk uninteresting which they do not do themselves. As 
she was polite she, of course, would not interrupt Mrs. 
Wilmot’s business colloquy, but as soon as that lady retired 
she ranged alongside and opened fire with all her guns at 
once. 

“I am real sorry to hear that you are not engaging board 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


31 


for two, Mr. Cobbs/’ she said; “but that is a fault which 
can be easily remedied. We have so many nice girls in 
Judithland. I don’t believe that there is a town of this 
size anywhere in the country which has so many sweet, 
pretty girls in proportion to the population. I will take 
pleasure in taking you to call on some of them any time 
you wish.” 

“Now, Mrs. Medlock,” said Horace Layton, quizzically, 
“you mustn’t be always drumming up business. Doesn’t 
your conscience ever worry you on account of all these men 
you’ve gotten into trouble for life, just because you get the 
wedding fees?” 

“An old bachelor like you needn’t talk, Mr. Layton,” 
returned Mrs. Medlock, smiling. “What do you know 
about it, anyhow ? They tell me you’ve been trying to get 
married for the past thirty years, and no girl will have you. 
You think you have got Miss Rosamond cornered, but I 
know she will get out of it somehow. And just because 
you can’t get married, you are always trying to make fun 
of other people who do. A man is never thoroughly happy 
until he is married. I know Mr. Medlock has been very 
much happier since I finally consented to marry him.” 

“We haven’t heard from Mr. Medlock on that subject 
yet,” said Horace. “I am not going to ask him anything 
about it when you are around, though, Mrs. Medlock. I’m 
going to get him off sometime and cross-examine him in 
private. I shall really enjoy finding out all the facts in the 
case.” 

“Well, you won’t find out anything different from what 
I say. I’ve got Mr. Medlock entirely too well trained to 
talk any differently when I am away than when I am pres- 
ent. And he feels that way, anyhow.” 

“Why, really,” replied Horace, smiling, “we hardly 
ever hear anything at all from your husband when you are 


32 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


present. Except his sermons on Sunday, occasionally, I 
hardly ever hear the sound of his voice. And, say, Mrs. 
Medlock, are you absolutely certain that you did not pro- 
pose to him? I don’t see how he got a chance, if he did it.” 

"I didn’t, Mr. Layton, I didn’t,” she responded, with 
spirit. “I kept him hanging on as long as Miss Columba 
has her sweethearts. I could prove it by his letters, but I 
lost them all when the parsonage burned. It was years 
and years before I finally consented to marry him.” 

“It is too bad that you lost your letters,” said Horace, 
sympathetically. “Maybe he could write you some more, 
if he hasn’t forgotten how. Speaking of Miss Columba, 
you would have been amused this afternoon, Mrs. Medlock, 
if you could have seen her two beaux. I had them playing 
chess to see which should come up here this evening. You 
know Dave blushes as much as Miss Columba is doing 
right now. He’s somewhat shy, but he’ll get over that, and 
he is much the nicer man of the two, and the best catch 
into the bargain. I don’t see why Miss Columba doesn’t 
think so, but she doesn’t.” 

“I am not blushing, Mr. Layton,” said Columba Wil- 
mot, indignantly, while the danger signals glowed upon 
her cheeks. “I am not blushing at all. You know very 
well David doesn’t care anything for me. He has not been 
here for a long time.” 

“I know he hasn’t,” said Horace. “It’s been over a 
week. I told him Jim Houston was cutting him out, but 
he only looked embarrassed and didn’t say anything.” 

“Dr. Houston is really in love with Miss Columba,” said 
Mrs. Medlock, judicially, “but Mr. Elmore is not. When 
Mir. Medlock was trying to persuade me to marry him he 
came every night for more than two years. There were 
three or four other men about that time, and they used to 
sit each other out until one or two o’clock. One night one 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


33 


of them said good-night about twelve, and left Mr. Med- 
lock and myself in the parlor and slipped into the dining- 
room, thinking he would come out after Mr. Medlock left; 
and for fear that we might come in there and make a light 
for something or other, he crawled under the table. But 
he went to sleep in the dark under there, and about half- 
past twelve, when Mr. Medlock had gone, I put out the 
lights and went upstairs, and he slept until the house 
servant came at six the next morning. Goodness gracious, 
hut she was scared. The whole town was laughing at him, 
and he never came again. Who knows what might have 
happened if he hadn’t gone to sleep,” she continued, medi- 
tatively. 

Here John Cobbs arose to take leave. While he was not 
very loquacious, except on business topics, and was willing 
enough to listen to his friends talk about his affairs, yet 
he did not consider other people’s interests of sufficient 
consequence to occupy his time if he could reasonably 
avoid it. 

Columha Wilmot and Horace Layton arose also. 

“I am sorry tha£ you will not stay to tea, Mr. Cobbs,” 
said Miss Columba. “But I suppose we will see you in the 
morning.” 

“ Sure,” returned John. "I’ll he on time. Can’t afford 
to he late at breakfast. I need it in my business. Good- 
night.” 

“ Good-night,” they returned, and John walked off down 
the street. 

While Mrs. Medlock continued her conversation with 
Horace, and Miss Columha went into the house to assist 
her mother in preparing tea, I presume that a few words 
descriptive of the young lady will be expected. 

To tell you the truth, I am not much in favor of de- 
scribing the appearance of characters in novels. A printed 


34 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


inventory of a person’s looks, as the Countess Olivia stated 
her features in “Twelfth Night,” seems so cold and dead; 
and, besides, it is somewhat rude to insinuate that readers 
have not enough imagination to fit physical qualities to the 
people in the story. 

But, on the other hand, when the actors come on the 
stage you almost always see them before you hear them 
speak, and therefore I am willing to give you a brief sum- 
mary of Miss Columba’s most salient points as a founda- 
tion for the exercise of your own fancy, especially because 
she frequently appears during the progress of the story. 

She was about the height which Horace Layton said he 
preferred and very slender, to use an elegant adjective. 
She had inherited a quantity of light brown hair from her 
mother, which, by frequent washing, she kept in excellent 
condition. Her skin was fair, hut with a slight tendency 
to freckle, and this annoyed her greatly and caused her to 
avoid the sun as far as possible. The expression on her 
countenance showed weakness and indecision, for, sad to 
relate, she was one of those fool women who positively en- 
joy being ill. 

There, now; I have used an extremely impolite expres- 
sion in referring to a young lady. I hope I may he for- 
given, and really it is not my custom to talk so; hut when 
I think of the number of women who keep their husbands 
or their fathers toiling to pay their doctors’ hills, whose 
houses are unkept, and whose children, poor things, have 
to raise themselves, and all because their mothers are lazy 
and vain and absolutely defy every law of hygiene, it makes 
me too indignant to talk sweetly. 

Any sane person ought to know that if you never use 
the muscles God has given you they will become useless 
and ache. An unused steam engine will rust. If you stay 
in a hot, tight room and never breathe the pure air of 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


35 


heaven your lungs will become diseased. They are made 
for air, and not for poison. If you stuff yourself with in- 
digestible food you will have dyspepsia. If you put too 
much coal on the grate the fire goes out. I have known 
young women to eat immoderately of Welsh rarebit at one 
o’clock in the morning and then dose themselves with pep- 
sin. Bah ! How thoroughly disgusting that is ! 

If you like to have a doctor and have someone who is 
able to pay for his services, you may be absolutely certain 
that the doctor will stay with you. Can you blame him, 
poor man? He may have a wife and ten children to sup- 
port, and how can you expect him to order a fine lady to 
get up and walk when she thoroughly enjoys living on a 
sofa and drinking poison which he is regularly paid to 
administer? It is not human nature to expect him to do 
anything else. 

However, I am doing Miss Columba a slight injustice. I 
said she enjoyed being ill, which she did; and if her father 
had been in prosperous circumstances she would doubtless 
have appropriated the sofa and the daily doctor. 

But owing to her father’s paralytic stroke and the diffi- 
culty which her mother experienced in making her receipts 
equal her disbursements, Columba was compelled to assist 
somewhat in the boarding-house keeping, and lacked both 
the time and the money to be a confirmed invalid. Thus 
she had to confine herself generally to feeling unwell, with 
the occasional luxury of a spell in bed, with Dr. Chester 
in attendance. 

I do not think that she was naturally a bad-tempered 
person. Indeed, she frequently assisted her mother and 
waited on her father very sweetly. But her supposed ill- 
health occasionally showed itself in her conduct, and peo- 
ple do not generally blame sick people for being cross. 

John Cobbs had an important object in view in refusing 


36 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


to remain for tea at Mrs, Wilmot’s. While beer is well 
enough in its way and is not a had tipple to take between 
drinks, yet it does not take the place of the real thing, and 
his entire being persistently clamored for the beverage 
which his pocket flask could not supply. 

He knew that Elm Street was just back of his store, and 
he walked rapidly in that direction. 

He found that it was more like an alley than a street 
and that it was lined on either side by negro tenements. 
These tenements were mostly two-room cabins, destitute 
of paint, old and rotting. The broken windows and the 
dilapidated roofs apparently supplied abundance of air and 
water, while the inmates themselves furnished the dirt, 
and the lacking element, fire, was indicated by a faint 
smoke which curled lazily up from certain time-worn chim- 
neys. The gaps in the fences allowed a ready egress to 
the swarms of dogs and children, who barked and stared 1 
at J ohn as he approached from a safe distance. 

There were no sidewalks, and the recent rain had con- 
verted the street into a mass of sticky mud, through which 
John found great difficulty in picking his way. Fortu- 
nately he had to go but little more than a square before 
he came to a sign which informed the public in irregular 
capitals of the following fact : 

“BUTES AN SHUS MEN DED HEARE BYE JONH JONHSIN.” 

A stalwart man, black as a witch’s cat, was sitting in a 
chair on the gallery of a cabin as badly decayed as its fel- 
lows, but which possessed the glory of three rooms. He 
scrutinized J ohn Cobbs narrowly as he slowly approached. 

“Say, Man,” said John, “got any molasses?” 

Apparently satisfied from the color of John’s face that 
he was all right and a desirable customer, the man an- 
swered promptly; 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


37 


“Yes, sah. Has you got a bottle?” 

After John had produced his flask he continued: 

“Go in de shop, knock t’ree times, go in de nex’ doah, 
put de bottle and de dollah in de box, knock twicet, and 
wait.” 

J ohn did as he was bid. The rooms were both small and 
filthy. The first was ostensibly a cobbler’s shop, and a 
miscellaneous collection of tools, lasts, and more or less 
worn shoes was scattered around the floor. 

Now, to John’s careless glance, in the obscurity, it was 
merely the working place of a humble shoe repairer; and 
if he had thought anything about it he certainly would 
have supposed it in constant use. But the eagle eye of the 
novelist sees a coating of thick dust upon the bench where 
the cobbler ought to sit. It sees the rust which has gath- 
ered on the awls, the lack of edge on the tarnished knives, 
and the mildew on the way-worn shoes. All of these cir- 
cumstances bear conclusive evidence to the fact that the 
owner of the establishment lives in some other way than 
upon the produce of his daily toil. 

And what a blessing it is that the story-teller’s eyes are 
more penetrating than those of his characters and his 
prescience more acute! If the reader believed, as Lady 
Geraldine was persuaded by that villainous Lord Cutthroat 
to believe, that Sir Robert was a scoundrel who had two 
wives already, the reader would chuck the volume into the 
fire and never reach that glorious final chapter where the 
noble Sir Robert forces the villain to confess that he lied; 
and, after cutting the throat of Lord Cutthroat, marries 
the heroine and takes her to live happily in his castle in 
Spain. 

What wonderful detectives writers of fiction are, to be 
sure! How tangled they do get us in a maze of contra- 
dictory evidence and then straighten out everything by one 


38 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


touch of their magic wands ! But you know the proverb, 
“ Those who hide can find”; and, although we are also told 
that a man who sets a trap is apt to fall therein, yet I 
personally prefer to take my chances with ten traps of my 
own setting rather than with one of some other fellow’s. 

John Cobbs knocked three times on the inner door, as he 
was directed, and after a faint scuffling had subsided, he 
opened it and entered into a negro’s bedroom. I could 
easily describe this room, hut I do not care to, because 
dirt and darkeys combined produce an odor which is not 
pleasing to sensitive nostrils, and I prefer to get my re- 
fined friends out of it as soon as possible. 

John was not so particular, and he had been in many 
similar dens of blind tigers heretofore. He soon perceived 
a cracker box which was let into a hole in the wall on the 
other side of the room, and above which the hinged lid 
was hanging by a cord. Placing his bottle with a dollar 
in the box, he gave the necessary signal, whereupon the lid 
dropped suddenly. It was raised again after a few min- 
utes, when he found that the dollar had vanished and the 
flask had been filled with a ruby-colored fluid, a portion 
of which he immediately swallowed. It was truly poor 
stuff, but it was whisky, and John had imbibed too much 
mean liquor during his life to be very fastidious. 

On his road to the hotel, he obtained a book from his 
store, and after supper he spent the evening in drinking 
whisky and water and in trying to read a volume of the 
works of Gwendolyn Rowena Montmorency. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


39 


CHAPTER Y. 

DAVID ELMORE. 

O F all the unfortunate beings whom the waves of 
eternity have cast upon the shores of time, the bash- 
ful man is the most unhappy. And I believe that 
this is due to the fact that his misery is internal and is not 
caused by extraneous circumstances. 

A woman who is shy is also to be pitied. But in our 
present state of society the female sex is not expected to 
be as self-assertive as the male, and therefore a maiden 
may conceal her timidity much more easily than a youth. 
A certain amount of it, termed modesty, is even very be- 
coming to her. 

Bashfulness is caused by an intense distrust of one’s 
own power to do or to say the proper thing in the correct 
manner. And yet a man may be diffident and at the same 
time know in the depth of his soul that he possesses social 
qualities superior to those of other men with whom he as- 
sociates. 

But, after he has framed a pretty speech which is suited 
to the occasion, if he attempts to give, it utterance in his 
hesitating voice, some other man, in loud tones, will in- 
terrupt his conversational harmony with a jangling dis- 
cord of foolishness, to which, of course, the woman pays 
attention. For women, as a rule, admire success already 
achieved, and prefer the plated jewelry which glitters to 
the dull gold in its rough quartz prison. And thus our 


40 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


bashful friend is left in silence, while he sees an ignorant 
man, with no refinement, carry off the honors of the con- 
versation. 

David Elmore was born shy. One of his earliest recol- 
lections of childhood was of a little boy, with long curls, 
climbing a pear tree to escape from two tiny girls who had 
come to visit him. He could indistinctly remember how he 
felt upon that occasion; and that, mingled with the timid- 
ity which induced him to fly from his company, there was 
an infusion of pride in his ability to climb so large a tree 
and a desire to display his contempt of danger in the sight 
of the ladies. 

He had been sickly as a boy and far from strong, and his 
father had employed teachers to instruct him at home, so 
that he had never been to school. His father’s business 
was prosperous, and he was an only child, and he had re- 
ceived the benefit of every advantage which a country town 
could furnish, although Colonel Elmore did not think it 
necessary to send him to college. 

But the weakness of his body had caused him to be the 
constant subject of persecution by other lads. He never 
went upon, the street without being kicked and cuffed by 
every boy who met him who was not much smaller than 
himself. It was not exactly cowardice which kept him 
from resistance, but it was the knowledge of his physical 
debility, and many a time he had gone several squares out 
of his way to avoid an encounter with an approaching male 
of his own size. 

Natural science teaches us that the young of every 
creature display the characteristics of their remote ances- 
tors. And, knowing this fact, no one can watch a group 
of schoolboys at their play and doubt for one instant of our 
descent from a race of howling savages. It is as natural 
for the small boy to abuse, and possibly destroy, the weak 


41 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

and unprotected as it is for the small girl to follow the 
instincts of her being and nurse a doll. 

Sometimes we see a vigorous hoy who is nearing his 
teens champion the cause of a weak fellow against a 
stronger lad. But I am sure that he does it more from a 
lust of combat than from any, except a very rudimentary 
notion of succoring the oppressed- 

And, really, our so-called civilization is entirely super- 
ficial, and at bottom the majority of the world is composed 
of worse savages than those from whom we are descended. 
For the suave language of diplomacy is only for the benefit 
of nations of equal or superior power, and the mailed fist 
enforces any claim, however unjust, against an inferior 
people. 

Thus to the brutality of our forefathers we have added 
the contemptible sin of hypocrisy, and the rulers of the 
earth claim to follow in the footsteps of the meek and 
lowly Jesus, while they are as arrogant and as proud as 
Beelzebub and cynically destroy their fellow creatures by 
the tens of thousands solely for the purpose of spoliation. 

I heard a small darkey once give utterance to a senti- 
ment that expresses the rule which has always governed 
man’s dealings with man very exactly. 

“Yes, sah,” he said. “Yes, sah. I ain’t feared to hit no 
nigger what’s littler dan me.” 

Now, my reader, if you are the proud father of a family 
of sturdy boys, do not blame them at all if they return 
from school with blackened eyes or bruised faces. It is a 
sign that they have been defending themselves against 
superior forces, or waging war against equals, which is a 
commendable conformity to their natural instincts. 

When you find, however, that one of them had been 
bullying a smaller hoy you may reprimand him if your 
own conscience is clear. 


42 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


Did you never in business crush a weaker competitor to 
the wall? Did you never hull or bear the market to en- 
large your own bank account and wipe out hundreds of 
others? Have you never employed your superior intellect 
to get the best of your neighbor in a horse trade or a real 
estate deal ? 

If you have never done these or similar things you may 
consistently correct your son for his natural instincts, but 
if you yield to the same influences yourself “remove first 
the beam which is in thine own eye, and then thou shalt 
see clearly to extract the mote which is in the eye of thy 
son.” 

And so David’s principal playmates in his childhood 
were small girls, who were mostly younger than himself. 
Probably owing to his physical weakness he never felt any 
desire to impose upon them, and he generally adapted him- 
self to their amusements and played with dolls. 

Oh, those happy days of childhood that grown people 
talk so much about and children never experience. What 
short memories most people have! If the cotton market 
goes against us and we are deprived of a large part of our 
previous gains, we can generally console ourselves by re- 
membering former losses from which we recovered, and we 
go on our way with the calm hope of robbing some other 
gambler to make ourselves whole again. But if a stronger 
lad takes from us our only top, the foundation of our be- 
lief in the private ownership of property is destroyed, and 
we are apt to sink into despair at the thought that we will 
never more own a darling top. And, although we may 
speedily forget our trouble, yet happy childhood is filled 
with similar painful circumstances. 

Columba Wilmot had been one of David’s most particu- 
lar friends. Before her father became an invalid, he 
earned a good salary as general manager of the cotton 


WINGS AND NO EYES 43 

compress and rented a house next door to the home of 
Colonel Elmore. 

David and Columba had spent part of every day to- 
gether, until she was sent to hoarding-school about the 
time that he commenced work as runner in his father’s 
hank. 

David’s health had become thoroughly established since 
he had arrived at maturity, and by a persistent course of 
physical exercise he had gradually attained the ordinary 
strength of manhood. 

Associated in business with men in the hank, where at 
the age of twenty-two he had worked up to the position of 
teller, and having forced himself during four years to 
spend most of his spare time in society, he was slowly over- 
coming his hashfulness. He possessed a, quick wit and 
abundance of good sense, and when alone with a girl who 
was willing to discuss intellectual topics he was able to 
take a fair share in the conversation. But in a crowd of 
young people, where the everlasting flow of nonsense was in 
circulation, his confidence generally deserted him, and he 
sat in silence or only answered in monosyllables. 

Men as a rule did not like him much, because he pre- 
ferred the society of women and cared little for their 
amusements and conversation. 

Mr. Wilmot’s sudden stroke of paralysis put an end to 
Columba’s education before she had been one year at col- 
lege. Soon afterwards her mother had rented a larger resi- 
dence near the business portion of the town and had 
opened a hoarding-house, where we found her in a preced- 
ing chapter. 

It was several months after Columba’s final return from 
school before David first realized that he loved her. The 
first taps of Love upon the doors of our hearts are very 
faint, and the little rogue frequently steals in and takes 


44 WINGS AND NO EYES 

possession before we have any knowledge that he is in our 
neighborhood. 

A foolish sense of pride, perhaps joined to David’s nat- 
ural diffidence, prevented him from confessing the truth 
to her at once and entreating her promise to marry him. 
His salary at that time, however, was not sufficient to sup- 
port a wife; he would not request his father’s assistance, 
and he was ashamed to ask her to wait for him. 

Here- David showed the natural effect of his lack of ego- 
tism. If he had been like most men he would have con- 
sidered that she was honored by his preference, and that 
she would only be too glad to engage herself to him for 
any length of time. 

But he was very much in love with Columba and not at 
all in love with himself; and, therefore, he could see no 
reason why she should wish to marry him; and he deter- 
mined not to ask her until he could earn enough to support 
her in reasonable comfort. 

David tried, during the three years before the com- 
mencement of our story, to remain on the old terms of in- 
timacy with his sweetheart; but somehow he had only in- 
different success. If he went to her home too frequently 
he found that she was suddenly taken ill, or she was tired 
and could not see him. When they were children together, 
if she needed any help to repair a broken doll or to find a 
lost toy, it was David to whom she naturally applied. But 
now when she required assistance she asked any of her 
friends except him. 

Her conduct troubled him continually. Occasionally, 
when he would see her, she would be lively and kind and 
they would part the best of friends; and she would pass 
him on the street the next day with a cold stare and a faint 
nod, as if she was uncertain whether or not she was ac- 
quainted with him. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


45 


Two years before our tale begins, James Houston re- 
turned from a medical school a full-fledged M. D., and at 
once commenced to practice his profession and to procure 
himself a wife. It is necessary for a doctor to be married, 
and as he had inherited sufficient money to live upon for a 
few years longer and possessed an absolute determination 
to succeed, he had no fears for the future. 

He soon commenced a vigorous courtship of Columba 
Wilmot, and David speedily had the pleasure of hearing 
their engagement unofficially announced. But as time 
went by his success appeared to be little better than 
David’s. For a month or two he would spend every even- 
ing at Mrs. Wilmot’s, and David would find him there, if 
he came, and leave him there when he went. If David 
asked her to go out with him she always had an engage- 
ment with Dr. Houston, and their friends in town were 
absolutely certain that they were soon to be married. Then 
suddenly his visits would cease, and for several months he 
would be seen no more at the young lady’s home, and after 
people had entirely stopped talking about the couple he 
would recommence his attentions in the same manner. 

Thus matters stood on that July day when John Cobbs 
came to Judithland, soon after David had been advanced 
to the position of teller in his father’s bank. 


46 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE MOONLIGHT PICNIC. 

T HERE was to be a grand moonlight picnic for the 
benefit of the Protestant Episcopal Church. The 
Episcopalians were not very strong in Judithland. 
They had only recently built a small church, and they 
were having considerable trouble in raising funds to make 
the first payment upon their debt. 

As a rule, this denomination does not prosper in the 
country or in small towns. Well-to-do, fashionable people, 
together with those who desire to be thought so, and who 
do not meddle too much with religion, form the bulk of its 
parishioners, which class does not largely exist outside of 
the cities. 

Colonel Elmore was senior warden of the church, and 
David had learned that the picnic was to be given the 
morning that it was decided upon, and he had at once tele- 
phoned to ask Columba Wilmot if she would go with him, 
which she readily consented to do. Believing that his sal- 
ary was now sufficient to support a wife without assistance 
from his father, he had fully made up his mind to ask her 
to marry him, and he thought there could be no better 
occasion for the momentous question than this. 

If any environment could produce the effect of softening 
a woman’s heart, a moonlight picnic certainly should. 
When the tiny moonbeams creep softly through the leafy 
portals of the grove and faintly touch the shadows with 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


47 


their golden radiance; while their fair mother sits en- 
throned among the circumambient clouds and smiles upon 
a lover’s vows, and from afar soft music is gently wafted 
upon the cooling breeze to form a dulcet accompaniment 
to his whispered pleadings, then, if ever, must a maiden 
yield heart and hand to the enamored swain who is glori- 
fied by his surroundings. 

There is no extra charge for this. It is all included in 
the price of the story. I throw it off merely to show what 
I could do if I tried, and you may thank your stars, fortu- 
nate reader, that I do not try very often. I am willing to 
admit that it is hard on the intelligent compositor, hut that 
long-suffering individual appears to get the worst of it at 
all times. Just think of having not only to read hut to 
put in type every word of one of our modern novels with- 
out the darling privilege of skipping. On the other hand, 
though, he gets paid for doing what we pay to he allowed 
to do, so I suppose it is about even all around. 

Another advantage which the moonlight picnic pos- 
sesses over the day article is that the semi-obscurity assists 
in concealing blemishes. The said loving couple may 
gracefully recline upon a grassy bank in the darkness in 
blissful ignorance of the facts that grass grows thinly 
under trees; that rain and earth will produce mud, and 
that mud does not combine to any artistic advantage with 
white duck trousers or lawn skirts. However, there are 
always washtubs to be had the next day. 

The picnic was to be held at Gaylor’s grove, on the Mid- 
land Railroad, some five miles from Judithland, the even- 
ing of John Cobbs’ first day at Mrs. Wilmot’s boarding- 
house. 

David dressed himself with unusual care that evening, 
and about half an hour before the train was to leave he 
strolled slowly to Columba’s home. To an outside ob- 


48 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


server he appeared to be sufficiently self-possessed, but the 
novelist looks upon the heart, and between you and me, 
fair reader, I think he was scared. But why he should be 
frightened I cannot say. He was going to ask the woman 
he loved a question which every maiden likes to hear. It 
may have been fear of failure which produced this feeling, 
but I think that it was merely the effect of his unconquer- 
able shyness. 

Mrs. Wilmot met him at the front door. 

“ Good-evening, Mrs. Wilmot,” he said. “Is Miss Co- 
lumba at home?” 

“Wh}q no, David,” she responded, in a slightly aston- 
ished tone of voice. “She went with Dr. Houston to take 
tea with his mother, and they are going to the picnic after- 
wards. They have been gone more than an hour. I am 
surprised that you are not going, David. I thought you 
went everywhere. Won’t you come in? There’s no one 
here but Mr. Wilmot and myself.” 

If Mrs. Wilmot had been an observant person she would 
have been much more surprised at the effect which her 
w'ords produced on David’s countenance as he made his 
embarrassed excuses and turned to walk away. But, like 
most middle-aged people, she paid little attention to young 
folks’ looks, and this evening, as her boarders had almost 
all gone to the picnic, she was occupied with her house- 
keeping accounts, which had an unaccountable way of re- 
fusing to balance. 

David’s soul was in a turmoil. He was angry with Co- 
lumba for her rudeness and angry with himself for loving 
a woman who could treat him with so little consideration. 
His first impulse was to go home and stay there. But he 
speedily reflected that if he did he would have to explain 
to his parents the next day the reason why he remained 
away, which he felt he could not do. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


49 


Then his pride came to his rescue, and he resolved to go 
to the picnic and show his faithless sweetheart that there 
were other women in the world, and that he could care as 
little for her as she for him. 

And by a great piece of that good luck which usually 
attends characters in novels, just as David had come to 
this resolution he saw Mamye Clay standing at her front 
gate, evidently waiting for someone, and he crossed the 
street to speak to her. 

“Good-evening, Miss Mamye,” he said. “Are you not 
going to the picnic?” 

“Why, yes, Davy,” she returned. “I’m going with the 
Browns. I’m just waiting for them now. Stop awhile and 
talk. Ain’t you going?” 

“Come go with me, Miss Mamye, if you don’t mind my 
not asking you before. I wanted to ask you last week, but 
I thought I would have to leave town on business, and I 
just got out of it this afternoon.” 

There are some circumstances in social life where a little 
white lie, if not entirely justifiable, is at least very con- 
venient. 

“Of course I’ll go with you, Davy. Oh, Ma!” she cried 
to her mother on the porch, “I’m going with Dave. Please 
tell Mrs. Brown. Come on, Davy. I’m afraid we’ll be too 
late!” 

“Oh, there is plenty of time, Miss Mamye, plenty of 
time. It lacks twenty minutes yet of train time, and they 
are almost certain to be late.” 

When they turned a comer of the railroad station they 
came suddenly face to face with Columba Wilmot and Dr. 
Houston. Columba flushed scarlet, although her color was 
not very perceptible in the growing dusk. She turned to 
one side immediately, as if to pass them without speaking, 
but Mamye Clay stopped her. 


50 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“Well, C’lumby,” she said, “I caught one of your beaus, 
if you did get the other. You can’t hold on to both- of the 
nicest men in town all of the time.” 

Columba’s voice trembled when she answered. Strange 
as it may seem, although she had deliberately broken her 
engagement with David, she was yet angry and hurt that 
he should console himself. And yet it is not strange that 
a woman should do unaccountable things. The combined 
wisdom of all the male world cannot predict what one 
simple girl will do under any given circumstances. 

“He didn’t ask you very long ago,” she said. 

“Why, he did, he did. He asked me more than a week 
ago, right after the picnic was advertised, didn’t you, 
Davy?” Mamye continued, turning to David. 

David had made up his mind that, if he met Columba, 
he would act as if nothing had happened, in order to show 
her that her rudeness was of no consequence to him. But, 
coming suddenly upon her with Dr. Houston as he had, he 
could only stammer out a kind of an assent; which, how- 
ever, was unnecessary, for Columba and her escort did not 
pause to await his answer. 

When the party reached the grove David devoted him- 
self assiduously to Mamye Clay. They danced together in 
the pavilion until they were tired; and, after testing the 
merits of the ices served by the ladies of the church, they 
wandered off to a bench in a dark place under some trees. 

“Davy,” she said, “why ain’t you been to see me?” 

“Why, Miss Mamye,” he replied, “I hardly ever go any- 
where. I haven’t been away from home for two weeks.” 

“Now, Davy, it ain’t any use in telling me stories. You 
know you are always hanging ’round C’lumby. And it 
won’t do you no good, either, ’cause she’s going to marry 
Jim Houston next month.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 51 

David tried to overcome the tremor in his voice as he 
replied, hut he was not very successful. 

“So I have heard. But I hardly ever go there.” 

“You do, Davy, you do. You are there all the time. 
What’s the use in wasting your time on an engaged girl 
when you might go to see a girl that really likes you? 
C’lumby Wilmot’s a mean, cross thing, anyway, and I 
don’t see why Jim Houston wants to marry her. But he 
does, and it’s going to come off next month, and they’re 
going to live with his mother. Mrs. Medlock told me all 
about it, and she’s living right in the house with her. You 
ought to come to see me, Davy. Come and take tea with 
me next Sunday, won’t you? It ain’t any use going to 
C’lumby’s.” 

“Why — I — yes, I’ll come. I’m not going to Miss Co- 
lumba’s any more at all.” 

“That’s right, Davy. It ain’t no use. You never will 
get a girl to marry you if you keep on hanging ’round an 
engaged girl. I could ’ve told you that two months ago.” 

David was naturally anxious to change the topic of the 
conversation. It is not a source of enjoyment for any man 
to hear the success of his rival announced, and it was par- 
ticularly displeasing to David, because he thoroughly be- 
lieved it to be true. 

But, really, when he was with Miss Mamye he hardly 
knew what to talk about. It is not easy for an intelligent 
young man, who is somewhat shy, to converse with a girl 
who spelts her name with a “y.” He thought of the books 
he had been reading, but he knew that her taste in that 
line did not extend beyond Laura Jean Libby, or her name- 
sake, to whom she proudly claimed to be related, and he 
had never perused any of the effusions of these two gifted 
authoresses. He was taking considerable interest in the 
South African negotiations, which were approaching an 


52 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


acute stage at that time, and which many people predicted 
could only find their solution in war; hut what did Mamye 
know or care about foreign affairs? So David fell back 
upon the last resource of the weak conversationalist. 

“ Isn’t it a beautiful evening,” he said. “ Don’t you 
think that the moonlight effects are exquisite in the coun- 
try?” 

“Yes,” returned Mamye, “and ain’t it nice and dark out 
here? A feller could put his arm plum ’round a girl’s 
waist and nobody’d never know the difference.” 

What did David do, you ask? Why, he did not do any- 
thing. Indeed, it was not a very long time before he and 
Miss Mamye went back to the pavilion. 

“I say, Bo,” said John Cobbs, seating himself beside 
Horace Layton, who was watching Rosamond Lattimer in 
her attempts to dance with a young countryman whose 
education in that line had been sadly neglected, “what’s 
a kew-ass?” 

“A kew-ass? What do you mean?” 

“And wdiat’s a grave? I don’t mean a hole in the 
ground, but something a fellow wears. And what’s a salad, 
and a buckler, and an Odd’s blood, and a zounds, and a 
ke-night? I’m dashed if I know, and there’s mighty few 
things that are worth knowing that I don’t.” 

“Why, bless my boots, Man, where did you get those 
words?” 

“I tried to read one of that Gwendolyn’s books last 
night, and I’ll be dashed if I didn’t go to sleep twenty 
times. I don’t see how any fellow can waste time reading 
books.” 

“Don’t let Gwendolyn hear you say that, or your name 
will be mud.” 

“You think I’m a fool, Bo? Not on your life. If people 
are fools enough to pay her big money for doing it, it don’t 


WINGS AND- NO EYES 


53 


hurt me none, I reckon. But, I say. Bo, ain’t there no 
way I can get in her house sooner than you said yesterday? 
I can’t wait a whole month, dashed if I can. If I do a 
thing, I want to do it right off.” 

“You can’t go unless you storm her castle and carry her 
off. I never went to her house but once when she was 
writing a book, and then she made me dress like an old 
monk and shave my mustache, blessed if she didn’t,” and 
Horace Layton twirled his brown mustache in an affec- 
tionate manner. 

“Well, can’t I, what you say, storm her castle? How do' 
you do it ? Dashed if I can’t do anything any other fellow 
can.” 

The lawyer’s eyes began to twinkle in the light of the 
oil lamps, as he saw the prospect of some fun. 

“Well, I reckon you can,” he said, “if you don’t mind 
dressing the part. And I don’t know any better way for 
you to get Gwendolyn, either. I think she would come 
down easy if she could have a real historical romance in her 
own life. You see, she has always had to get her love 
scenes out of other people’s books, as she has never had a 
case herself, and I don’t think she likes it. But you must 
read her books.” 

“Oh, I can’t. Bo. Dashed if I can. I don’t understand 
half the words. And, I say,” John continued, “can’t you 
help me out on it, and I’ll pay you a commission on what 
she’s worth? A small commission,” he corrected, in a 
slightly apprehensive tone of voice. 

“I will help you for nothing,” said the attorney, laugh- 
ing. “I shall be glad to help Gwendolyn to a good hus- 
band.” 

“Well, then, tell me what to do. Dashed if I know. 
What’s a ke-night?” 

“Don’t you know what a knight is?” 


54 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“Know what night is ! Well, I should say I did. I’ve 
played poker till morning too dashed many times not to 
know what a night is; and Fve had some rattling good 
ones, too. But what’s a ke-night?” 

“Why, a ke-night, as you call it, was one of those old- 
time fellows Gwendolyn writes about. You see, they 
bummed ’round after dark so much, taking chops at 
dragons and other ke-nights, that they always carried 
latch-keys to get in when they got home, and finally they 
got to calling them key-nights, which is the poetic way of 
saying night-key.” 

Horace Layton’s face assumed an expression of pre- 
ternatural gravity, and his voice acquired a tone of great 
seriousness. 

“I never ate any dragon chops,” said John Cobbs, “but 
I reckon they’re all right. You think she won’t mind my 
having a latch-key? It’s all right, but I’d have it anyhow, 
whether she liked it or not. And what’s a kew-ass, Bo?” 

“Why, a cuirass was a kind of donkey that the knights 
rode on. You see, they found out by experience that 
horses got frightened at the noise their armor made when 
it rattled, and invariably ran away and pitched them off, 
and so they adopted the donkeys. Every knight carried a 
big bunch of greens on his back which they called the 
salade, and when the fight began he pitched it down in 
front of his donkey, and you couldn’t budge that animal 
until they got through. If you want to carry off Gwen- 
dolyn, I know where you can get a good donkey.” 

“Carry her off, Bo? How do you mean?” 

“Why, that was the way the knights always got their 
wives? You want to dress up in costume some morning, 
rush into her yard, knock down her men, and pick her up 
and carry her off to town. I think she would be charmed 
to death.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


55 


“ Carry her into town? Why, Bo, she must* weigh nearly 
two hundred pounds.” 

“Oh, you only have to lift her on the donkey and you 
ride in front of her yourself,” said the lawyer, as he rose 
to his feet when the music ceased. “I’ve got an engage- 
ment with Miss Rosamond and must get you to excuse me, 
Mr. Cobbs. I will see you about it to-morrow and help you 
with the costume.” 

“But tell me what an ess-quire is before you go. Bo. 
Dashed if I know anything about it.” 

“Why, an esquire was a small nigger each knight had to 
drive his donkey,” replied Horace, as he paused and half 
turned before he started away. “They called them that 
because they always sang in chorus while the knights were 
fighting.” 

As soon as Horace reached the side of Rosamond Latti- 
mer, her countryman bowed clumsily and departed in 
silence. 

“I think he must be a graduate from the deaf and dumb' 
institute,” said Rosamond, as she watched his awkward 
progress across the pavilion. “Now, Horace, why didn’t you 
come to rescue me from him before? He nearly tramped 
my feet to pieces,” she continued, as they turned their 
steps in the direction of an empty bench which was located 
invitingly in a dusky nook under the trees. 

“My dear, sweet girl,” he said, “you know that I only 
live to hear your charming voice and see your beautiful 
face and graceful form. I would walk all ’round the world 
on my knees merely to, see the print of your tiny foot. But 
that young man has a great deal of influence in politics, 
even if he don’t talk to suit you; and what chance do you 
think J would have to carry his district if I cut him out 
from his dance with the nicest girl in all the world?” 

She smilingly forgave him. There are some speeches 


56 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


that the most skeptical of women will readily believe, even 
if they know the man who utters them is never in earnest. 

“And, Rosy, dear,” he continued, “I’ve got the best 
joke you ever heard of. You saw that red-headed man I 
was talking to, didn’t you? That was John Cobbs, who 
has bought out Trescott’s bookstore. He has got an idea 
into his head that he will try to marry Gwendolyn, and I 
am going to help him dress up like a knight to carry her 
off. The best part of it is that he don’t begin to under- 
stand the first principles of what a knight was, and I have 
been imposing on him until I am really ashamed of my- 
self. I want to get you to help me fix up a costume for 
him. We will have a whole lot of fun out of it.” 

When the third couple with whom we are at present in- 
teresting ourselves reached the grove, Columba Wilmot 
located herself upon a bench in the shadow near the pa- 
vilion and remained there. She declined Dr. Houston’s 
invitation to dance; she refused all refreshments, and she 
answered his conversational attempts in monosyllables. 
But when David Elmore returned to the pavilion with 
Mamye Clay, and leaving her to dance with another man, 
wandered off in an aimless way, Columba rose to her feet 
and insisted upon her escort taking her for a walk through 
the woods. 

After strolling for some time in silence they sat down on 
a bank, and she suddenly broke in upon the stillness of the 
grove. 

“Why don’t you say something, Dr. Houston ?” she said, 
pettishly. “I hate to see a man walk along like a block of 
wood and never open his mouth.” 

“You know, Miss Columba,” he replied, in a soft, low 
tone, “that there is only one subject which I can think 
about when I am with you, and you seemed to be so quiet 
this evening that I did not like to mention it.” 


57 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

“You had better talk about that than nothing. And yet 
I am sick and tired of hearing about it, too. I never in- 
tend to marry you, and I don’t see why you don’t stop ask- 
ing me.” 

“You will some day,” he returned, confidently, “and I 
am willing to wait. I would wait for you for a thousand 
years.” 

“Isn’t it ’most train time?” she said. “It seems to me 
very late.” 

He struck a match and glanced at his watch for an in- 
stant, before a puff of the rising wind put out the light. 

“It is only eleven o’clock,” he said, “and the train does 
not leave until eleven-thirty.”’ 

“But the- band has stopped playing,” she replied. “Are 
you sure that we were not to return until halfpast eleven?” 

“I think they must be giving the band their supper. 
They always give them some refreshments.” 

They talked in a desultory fashion for some minutes 
longer, when the distant rumbling of a train attracted their 
attention. 

“Dr. Houston, isn’t that our train?” she asked, nerv- 
ously. 

“I think it must be just coming for us, Miss Columba. 
We might walk over to the pavilion and wait there.” 

But when they reached the pavilion it was silent and 
deserted. There is something peculiarly depressing about 
a place of amusement after the gay throng of pleasure- 
seekers has departed. It may be that the ghosts of dead 
joys mourn their lost existence and frighten the chance 
wayfarer. It may be only the solitude contrasted with the 
assembly. But it is certain that an unused picnic-ground 
in the moonlight is more disheartening even than a theater 
in the morning. 

Columba realized this feeling as she cried : 


58 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“Dr. Houston, they’ve gone and left us. What shall I 
do? I told you that was our train.” 

“They must have gone ahead of time. It can’t be more 
than eleven-fifteen.” 

He looked at his watch again in the moonlight ; but alas ! 
watches, like men, are fallible. The perfidious hands still 
pointed to eleven o’clock. It had stopped. 

What should they do? Are you in doubt, fair reader? 
Well, Dr. Houston was not. You do not know him very 
well if you think he could hesitate for a moment in decid- 
ing such a question. 

“The next train to town passes here about seven-thirty,” 
he said. “It’s a local and stops here when flagged. I will 
take you over to Dan Bowman’s house and you can spend 
the night there. It is only about three hundred yards. I 
know him and his wife very well. I attended their daugh- 
ter last spring when she had pneumonia.” 

“But my mother? She always sits up for me, and she 
will be frightened to death when the others come with- 
out me.” 

“There’s a telephone at a house a little way up the road, 
and after I take you to Mrs. Bowman’s I will go there and 
telephone to her. I will get her before the train comes in.” 

Middle-aged, portly reader, whose sons and daughters 
are growing up around you, how many fibs did you tell 
your wife before you married her? You need not begin to 
bristle up and indignantly deny, because I know what you 
did better than you know yourself. You think that a 
young man is a fool because he uses every possible means 
to win the woman he loves; and yet you did the same thing 
when you were younger and have forgotten. 

There was no telephone in the neighborhood and Bow- 
man’s only horse was sick. Dr. Houston thought riding a 
mule a worse punishment than walking; and so, after leav- 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


59 


ing Columba with Mrs. Bowman, he counted crossties for 
five long miles to Judithland and relieved the anxiety of 
his sweetheart’s mother soon after one o’clock. After try- 
ing to sleep for a couple of hours, and making an unpro- 
fessionably poor job of it, about half-past four he roused 
up his stableman and promptly appeared at the six-thirty 
breakfast at Bowman’s house with a bunch of dew-spangled 
roses, which by great good luck he had obtained from their 
early-rising local florist. 

The breakfast was quite good, and Columba was in a 
better humor, which reacted on her lover. She made no 
inquiries as to where he had passed the night or obtained 
her flowers, and they took the morning train for town. He 
left his horse and buggy to be sent in later, and allowed 
her to learn of his night’s work after she reached her home. 
A man spoils all his thoughtfulness if he brags about it. 

It must be confessed that Dr. Houston understood quite 
well how to win a wife. Any man who is not positively 
repulsive can win the hand of almost any woman he 
chooses, provided he has a few years in which to conduct 
his courtship. 

But, on the other hand, it is not the road to a woman’s 
heart. A woman does not love a man before marriage be- 
cause he sacrifices himself for her. It is much more apt 
to make her fall in love with herself. And, besides, it is 
human nature to desire what we cannot get and to lightly 
esteem that which comes without exertion. And when a 
woman believes that one man is irretrievably in love with 
her charming self, she very probably will wish to keep him 
on hand while she tries to attract some other man. 

Sometimes a woman will marry a man to get rid of him, 
as the saying is, and fall in love with him after marriage. 
But it is a dangerous experiment to try, for both parties. 


60 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTEK YII. 

DON QUIXOTE REDIVIVUS. 

0 fur ever had time to grow upon the back of any 



cat which John Cobbs was engaged in skinning. 


-A- 1 If he failed in doing the thing which he attempted 
it was never because of lack of energy. 

He was at work in his store by six o’clock the next morn- 
ing, and lost his temper completely because Horace Lay- 
ton had not come downstairs when he went to Mrs. Wil- 
mot’s for breakfast. 

That easy-going gentleman, however, never broke his 
fast before halfpast nine or ten o’clock; and, as he had 
been out somewhat late the night before, it was nearly 
eleven before he put in an appearance on Main street. 

In his own way, he was about as much interested in 
John Cobbs’ scheme for capturing an heiress as John was 
himself. There was little amusement to be had in Judith- 
land during the summer; and, as his practice was very 
small at present, he found the time hang heavily upon his 
hands. To be sure, he never allowed his work to interfere 
with his play, for in early life he had tacitly chosen for 
his motto “Pleasure before business.” When he had noth- 
ing else to do he was willing, languidly, to interest himself 
in law cases for a few hours a day. But as both his re- 
sources had failed, life was becoming very monotonous, 
and he hailed the prospect of John Cobbs’ enterprise with 
as much enthusiasm as he ever displayed about anything. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


61 


It is true that he had engaged himself to Rosamond 
Lattimer a couple of months before in order to obtain a 
respite from the tedium of the warm season. He had no 
more idea of marrying her than she had of marrying him; 
and, to tell the truth, they were both becoming somewhat 
tired, although neither would he the first to admit it. 

Rosamond was a young woman whose heart was under 
too perfect control even to try to persuade her to bestow 
her hand upon a man, who, at the age of thirty-five, was 
barely able to support himself. She had not been acting 
her part upon the society stage for an unknown number 
of years, with any notion of reaching such an anti-climax 
as that. 

Of course, she had small prospect of capturing a very 
wealthy man, for they were scarce in Judithland, as they 
are in the South generally. And equally, of course, she 
would never for an instant have entertained the idea of 
allowing a man to lead her to the altar unless she really 
loved him. 

But if you have not naturally a contrary disposition, it 
is really easier, in most cases, to fall in love with a rich 
man than a poor one. You may also he certain that Dan 
Cupid will remain perched above the domestic hearth- 
stone for a much longer period if the little wife comes smil- 
ing to the front gate in a ravishing tea gown to meet her 
husband than if he is compelled to seek her in the kitchen, 
where, with reddened face and soiled apron, she is just 
finishing the dish-washing. Bah! It makes me sick to 
think about it. Yellow soap and dish-water, and turtle 
doves and love, are forever irreconcilable enemies. 

And yet, dear me, Miss Lattimer had for some five 
years been expecting her twenty-first birthday, which 
seemed to be unaccountably slow in arriving, and still she 
was Miss Lattimer. You and I, reader, might consult the 


62 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


old files of the Judithland Enquirer, which, with unexam- 
pled enterprise, or possibly a scarcity of live matter, had 
always published lists of births. But we scorn such idle 
curiosity, and very probably if we mentioned the matter 
the lady would speak sadly of her baby sister who died 
many years before she came to be her parents’ only child. 

If Miss Rosamond still remained unmarried, however, it 
certainly was not due to lack of opportunity. She was one 
of those unusual women whom you will probably meet with 
only once in a lifetime, that combine personal beauty with 
intelligence and a knowledge of the art of pleasing. 

As a rule, Dame Nature is much more chary of her 
favors than the novelist is, and in real life the beautiful 
woman generally lacks the intellect required to use her 
charms to the best advantage. She is content to allow her 
chances for social success to depend upon her face, while 
she makes no effort to please; and often she destroys the 
meaning of an adjective in our language by remaining at 
home for lack of an escort, whom her homely sister secures 
by the simple process of trying to be agreeable. 

For several years after Rosamond came out she was un- 
questionably the most popular girl in that section of the 
State, and her lovers were so numerous that she was com- 
pelled to register them in a hook in order to remember who 
they were. 

But, as it frequently happens with very attractive 
women, she thought it would never end, and, although 
each man was nice in his own way, yet she always expected 
something better farther on. She recently had begun to 
realize, however, that younger girls were pre-empting the 
land around her, and that if she did not hasten she might 
be compelled to choose a rough and rocky quarter-section 
for her homestead after passing by the fertile acres ; unless, 
indeed, she preferred to remain an old maid. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


63 


After I have stated that she was slightly above the me- 
dium in height, with a tine, well-developed figure, a fair 
skin, large blue eyes and magnificent yellow hair, your 
introduction to Miss Rosamond will be about complete. I 
must admit that her nose was not exactly classical; hut, if 
you have ever noticed it, good noses are rare in this world. 

Her father was a cotton buyer, in fairly prosperous cir- 
cumstances; hut he lived entirely up to his income and had 
small prospect of leaving his wife and daughter more than 
a hare subsistence if by chance he should suddenly pass 
away. 

The morning after the picnic Rosamond breakfasted and 
dressed in a leisurely fashion and strolled down to a small 
dry goods store on Main street. She required some rib- 
bons, or some gloves, or some other small articles; which, 
fortunately for her father, are long in buying and short in 
paying for. And as she came out after completing her 
transactions she saw Horace Layton and a red-headed man 
standing in the door of the adjacent store, over which 
there glittered in new gilt letters a sign which read “John 
Cobbs." 

“Wffiy, good-morning, Miss Rosy!" Horace Layton said. 
“I was just longing to see you. This is Mr. Cobbs, Miss 
Lattimer. Mr. Cobbs and I were just discussing a very 
important matter, and we want the benefit of your advice." 

Whereupon the speaker winked at his young lady friend, 
with a very expressive look on his countenance. 

“I shall be very glad to do anything in my power to help 
Mr. Cobbs," she responded, sweetly. 

“Well, come up to your father’s office, Miss Rosy, and 
we will tell you all about it." 

“Wait till I get my coat, Bo," said John. “Can’t talk 
to girls without a coat, you know." 

The cotton office upstairs was on the opposite side of 


64 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


the hall from the law office and John Cobbs’ sleeping apart- 
ment, and occupied the entire length of the building over 
the dry goods store. In addition to the back windows 
the cotton room, which was in the rear of the office proper, 
was lighted by a skylight, under which Mr. Clark, who 
kept books for Mr. Lattimer, was reading a newspaper. 

After the exchange of the usual senseless morning greet- 
ings with this gentleman, Rosamond and Horace located 
themselves near the rear windows, and he rapidly suggested 
to her the advice which she was to give. 

“Well, Miss Rosy,” Horace began, after John had come 
in and taken his seat, “the advice which we wanted was 
this : Mr. Cobbs, here, is minded to get himself a wife with 
his bow and his spear, after the Roman fashion ; but, as the 
custom is somewhat out of date, I haven’t quite been able 
to persuade him that she would like it.” 

“You haven’t told me who the girl is,” replied Rosa- 
mond. 

“Oh, excuse me. It’s our authoress, Lady Gwendolyn. 
You see, Mr. Cobbs got into her castle the other day for a 
few minutes and fell violently in love with her at first 
sight. He can’t wait until her thralldom is over, and he 
wants to carry her off right away.” 

“I think it’s a splendid idea,” said Rosamond, with en- 
thusiasm. “I do not think that there is anything in the 
world that would please Gwendolyn so much.” 

“It might be all right, Miss,” said John, “if she could 
see me; hut if I put that tin thing on my head she won’t 
know who I am.” 

Rosamond looked at the red, freckled face of the speaker 
with the pug nose attached to its center, and inwardly 
congratulated herself upon her long society experience, 
which enabled her to keep a serious countenance when she 
required it, 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


65 


“But you must dress like a knight,” she said, earnestly; 
“and I know that Gwendolyn will he charmed to be car- 
ried off in such a romantic way. And then, when you raise 
your visor and she sees you, she will be pleased to death.” 

“I reckon she would,” said John, with a satisfied grin. 
“But we can’t both ride on one donkey. That girl must 
weigh two hundred.” 

“Well, you put her on the donkey and walk by her side,” 
responded Horace. “It’s not much over six miles, and she 
is certainly worth some trouble. When you get her to town 
bring her to Mr. Lattimer’s house, and I will get the minis- 
ter and the license, and Miss Rosy and I will wait on you.” 

“All right, Bo. I reckon it’s a go. But, say, can’t I 
leave that tin thing off my head? She’d heap rather see 
me right off.” 

“Oh, it isn’t possible,” Horace answered. “Gwendolyn 
would only laugh at a knight who went out to carry off his 
lady love and left his helmet at home.” 

“Yes, really, Mr. Cobbs,” said Rosamond, “the helmet 
is a part of the costume which cannot very well be omit- 
ted.” 

“All right, then,” replied John, resignedly. “I’ll go 
the whole hog.” 

“When are you going to make Gwendolyn so happy?” 
Rosamond inquired. 

“He’s going on Monday, if we can get the armor ready,” 
Horace answered; “and we want to get you to help us with 
the costume for the ’squire. Mr. Cobbs is going to repre- 
sent Richard the. First; and, like all the Plantagenets, he 
will wear a broom for his crest. You know, of course, how 
a ’squire ought to dress, and you can get anything you 
need, and hire a woman to sew and charge it to Mr. 
Cobbs.” 

“I shall be delighted to help,” said Rosamond, smiling. 


66 WINGS AND NO EYES 

“I would do anything to help Gwendolyn to such a nice 
husband.” 

A neat yellow man in John’s employ came in just theii 
and told him that a gentleman was waiting downstairs to 
see him on business. 

“I’ve plenty of time to-day, Mr. Cobbs,” said Horace, as 
John arose to depart, “and of course I know that you must 
be busy on Saturday. I will arrange to have everything 
ready, and if you will come to Mr. Lattimer’s Monday 
morning about nine Miss Rosy and I will help you on with 
your armor.” 

“All right, Bo. I don’t know nothing about it, so I 
can’t help none. I hate to put that tin thing over my 
head, but I reckon the girl’s worth it.” 

“You don’t really think that he will try to break into 
Gwendolyn’s house, do you, Horace?” asked Rosamond, 
after John had gone. 

“Not when I get through with him, Rosy. It’s a good 
eight miles to Castle Montmorency, and I am going to get 
Charley Peters’ donkey and a little negro named Jack to 
drive him. The donkey is the laziest creature on the face 
of the earth, and the nigger is ten times as lazy as the 
donkey. If he can get them to go eight miles in eight 
years he is a smarter man than I take him for.” 

“But he might get off and walk,” objected Rosamond. 
“He looks as if he would do what he tried to do, and I 
should not like to get Gwendolyn into any trouble.” 

“You wait until you see the costume I’m going to get 
up for him, and you won’t be afraid of his walking in it. 
It is going to be the most outlandish thing you ever heard 
of. The funny part of it is that the worse suggestions I 
make, the better he likes them. He don’t like to cover up 
his beautiful face, but he seems to be even resigned to that. 
You must be very careful, dear, after he leaves Monday 


WINGS AND NO EYES 67 

morning. I am afraid that you will hurt yourself laugh- 
ing.” 

Horace and Eosamond passed the busiest day which 
either had spent for a long time. Horace employed a negro 
tinner and an awning-maker, who were handy men to do 
what they were told, and by personal supervision and di- 
rection he succeeded in completing the suit to his liking, 
and he had it delivered at Mr. Lattimer’s residence before 
sundown. He breathed a great sigh of relief when he saw 
it depart; for, although it was conceived in the spirit of 
fun and he was generally willing to take considerable trou- 
ble over his pleasure, yet it began to be too much like work 
before it was finally finished. 

The next day being Sunday, John fumed and worried 
over his enforced idleness. Sunday laws were quite strictly 
enforced in Judithland, so he was compelled to keep his 
store closed; and, as he never thought of going to church, 
he had a long, hot day to spend with nothing to do. He 
insisted that Horace should take him to Mr. Lattimer’s to 
try on his costume, but the lawyer was too wily a hunter 
to allow his victim to examine the snare before he was 
safely enmeshed in it, and he made endless excuses, which 
John was obliged to accept. The day, however, like all 
other days I ever heard of, came to an end at last, and 
John went early to bed and slept the sleep of the innocent. 

To the great admiration of the boarding-house, Horace 
Layton appeared at the eight o’clock breakfast that Mon- 
day morning. Many were the half-ironical compliments, 
which he received with his usual equanimity. He pre- 
ferred to enjoy the anticipation of his joke in private, and 
by several adroit interruptions he restrained John Cobbs 
from confiding his matrimonial intentions to the assembled 
guests. John had not spoken of his project on the previous 
day, for fear that some other fellow might try to get ahead 


68 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


of him; hut now that the time for his adventure had ar- 
rived he thought he might safely brag about his prospects, 
and would have done so if Horace had not prevented him. 

The usual summer quiet of Main street in Judithland 
was interrupted that morning in a strange manner. An 
approaching noise, which sounded like tin pans contin- 
uously falling downstairs, first attracted the merchants 
from the interiors of their stores. A growing crowd of 
negro hoys soon appeared, surrounding the strangest trio 
which the street had ever looked upon. 

Charley Peters’ donkey was soon recognized, with bright 
pink hows fastened to his ears; and, marvelous to behold, 
trotting without being urged for the first time in his life. 
But after the spectators saw the grotesque figure upon his 
hack they ceased to wonder at the donkey’s energy. 

The man who was riding, for a man it apparently was, 
wore upon his shoulders a rectangular box about three feet 
in height by two feet wide. His head, if he had one, was 
lost in the interior. There were some small holes cut to 
allow him air, hut they were so located that he could in 
no possible way see anything of the outside world. This 
helmet was painted half red and half blue, while a rude 
attempt to draw a fool’s head, with cap and bells, was seen 
in front. Projecting about two feet from the top of the 
helmet, to which the sawed-off stick was fastened, was a 
broom, and the doughty scion of the Plantagenets carried 
another broom with a long handle by way of a spear. The 
helmet was attached to a canvas suit, on the body of which 
a great number of pieces of tin were sewed at one corner, 
and they jangled loudly at every motion of the donkey. 
His arms and legs were covered with large rings of tin, also 
loosely fastened, which would have made progress on foot 
very difficult for the knight, even if his helmet had allowed 
him to see. Upon his back he carried a huge bundle of tur- 



John Cobbs in Search of a Bride. 




WINGS AND NO EYES 69 

nip greens, and many streamers of vivid red and blue cloth 
were attached to his suit between the tin plates. 

Every now and then some boy in the crowd more enter- 
prising than his fellows would dart forward and violently 
jerk one of these streamers, whereupon the knight would 
strike out with his spear as vigorously as his cumbrous 
sleeves would allow. But, like all blows in the dark, the 
greater portion of these strokes fell anywhere but as in- 
tended, and most generally alighted upon the head of his 
long-suffering steed. 

This gallant cavalier was attended by a half-grown 
negro boy, dressed in a gown of parti-colored red and blue. 
His shiny black face was surrounded by a fool’s hood, 
decked with an enormous pair of ass’s ears, also red and 
blue, along the edges of which small sleighbells tinkled. 
The squire carried a broom, like the knight, for the purpose 
of aiding the locomotion of his master; but, as we stated 
above, his position seemed to be a sinecure. 

Down the principal business street they moved, amid 
the shouts and laughter of the constantly increasing 
throng. Rosamond and Horace had reached the windows 
of Mr. Lattimer’s office before the arrival of the storming 
party, which they had directed the squire to conduct by a 
longer way. The joke was too good for them to allow the 
people on Main street to enjoy it by themselves. 

After passing the city limits, however, the rabble began 
to thin out. The July sun shone hot above them; and, as 
the rider seemed bent upon a country excursion, the city 
boys soon lost their interest. Thus it was that before they 
had gone half a mile the knight and his squire were the 
only travelers on the highway; and, except for the rattle of 
his armor, silence took the place of the preceding clamor. 

About a mile from Judithland on the Broadnax road 
there flows a small stream of water. It is only about a 


70 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


foot in depth where it placidly crosses the thoroughfare 
over its bed of pebbles. A convenient place it is for the 
wayfarer to water his mule when going to town, and the 
grateful shade of several large oak trees invites him to 
pause and rest awhile. Some moss-grown stones on one 
side aid the human pedestrian in passing over dry-shod, 
and quadrupeds in general show little hesitation in wetting 
their feet. 

By the time the donkey had reached this spot his usual 
phlegmatic calm had returned to him. And when he ar- 
rived at the center of the stream, perceiving that the stim- 
ulating action of the broom on his flank had ceased, he 
concluded to stop also. Like all donkeys, he was a great 
philosopher, and he argued, sensibly enough, that every 
effect must have its cause. Now, the sole cause of his 
progress w r as the beating he received, and when the cause 
was taken away the effect naturally disappeared. 

But, dear reader, do not for an instant suppose that be- 
cause I say that all donkeys are philosophers I mean to 
insinuate that all philosophers are donkeys. No, forever 
perish the thought. This is one of those poor rules which 
only works one way, and it is not at all governed by the 
laws of mathematics or Christian science. 

The squire had paused on the bank of the stream in the 
shade and called out when the donkey stopped and he saw 
its rider raise his feet to remove them from the water : 

“Heah we is, Boss. Where’s ma dollah?” 

But the helmet of our modern Don Quixote was too 
tightly constructed to allow communication with the out- 
side world, and as the small darkey objected to wetting the 
shoes presented to him for the occasion, he sat down by 
the roadside to await developments. 

These were not long in appearing. 

Finding that his attendant had deserted him, and that 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


71 


his steed remained stationary, the knight undertook to aid 
its progress with his own weapon. Now, the donkey was 
sure that blows on his head were not in accordance with 
the rules of the game; He also knew that the day was 
warm and that the water was cool, and the retainer started 
for town at full speed, after seeing his master measure his 
length upon the bed of the stream, on which his fiery 
charger had also reclined. 

How John Cobbs returned to Judithland you will never 
know. He doubtless could tell you himself, but unless you 
are fond of a scrap you had better not ask him. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


72 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A SILVER BARBECUE. 

I T so happened that there was to he a political speak- 
ing and barbecue in the southern end of the county 
on the next day, and soon after dinner Horace pro- 
cured a team from the livery stable and drove off in that 
direction. Although he could not foresee exactly how 
John Cobbs’ expedition would end, yet he knew it could 
not be successful, and he thought it just as well to be out 
of the way until the wrath of the disappointed suitor had 
somewhat cooled down. It was so much trouble to quarrel 
with people. 

His original intention had been to go on the morning of 
the gathering, but he was sure that he could make some 
new friends by going the day before, which was an addi- 
tional reason for leaving town. 

After much hesitation Horace had finally mustered suffi- 
cient resolution to announce himself as a candidate for the 
lower house of the Legislature at the primary election 
which was to be held about the middle of August. He was 
naturally an agreeable person and had many friends, and 
under ordinary circumstances, if he had bestowed a little 
more work upon his canvass, there would have been only a 
small amount of doubt as to his success. 

The great majority of voters in every community are 
governed by the most trivial and unworthy motives. If a 
man will shake hands with a smile and inquire about the 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


73 


family almost all our intelligent electors will bestow their 
ballots upon him, regardless of his qualifications, unless 
his opponent happens to be able to do it more cordially. 

It merely goes to show how utterly unfit most individ- 
uals are for the franchise. Not a farmer in the county 
would have hired a fieldhand because he was a “palavering 
nigger.” And yet they would choose a man to fill the most 
important office in the State for a similar reason. 

But in the summer when our story commences there was 
a more essential test even than the ability to shake hands, 
by which all candidates were tried. This shibboleth was 
silver. It is true that the craze was beginning to subside 
since Mr. Bryan’s first campaign, and was destined soon to 
pass to that sea of oblivion on which the greenback phan- 
tom can be dimly discerned. 

But at this time still, the first question the intelligent 
voter asked all candidates from constable to senator was, 
“Are you all right on silver?” After each had said that 
he was, for of course no sane competitor would admit being 
a “gold bug,” if his handshaking was satisfactory he was 
unquestionably a fit person to perform the duties of the 
important office to which he aspired. 

This financial delusion, which has attacked all nations 
at various times, is a most remarkable instance of human 
folly. The idea that silver was to be “free” captivated the 
electors; who, densely ignorant of the nature of money, 
did not reason that a medium of exchange which all might 
obtain for nothing, of course, could have no exchangeable 
value for other commodities. 

Unfortunately for Horace Layton’s political prospects, he 
had no thought of becoming a candidate for any office in 
1896, when the silver mania was at its highest; and, as he 
was an intelligent person and quite well-read, he at once 
perceived the fallacy of the cheap money theory; and he 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


74 

expressed himself upon the subject somewhat freely. He 
had, of course, taken no prominent part against Bryan’s 
election, as there was no organized opposition in Judith 
County, and he had even voted for that gentleman. But 
as soon as he announced himself as a candidate for the 
Legislature his views upon the silver question rose up 
against him like the Afrite from the bottle, and threat- 
ened his political destruction in spite of argument or en- 
treaty. 

The county in which the town of Judithland is situated 
is entitled to two representatives. One of the three candi- 
dates was sure to be nominated in the primary, because he 
lived out of town, and the county precincts polled more 
votes than the city, and besides, he was a popular man with 
his neighbors. 

Thus the race was between the two city men, our friend 
Horace and a Jew butcher named Tomlinsky. T'omlinsky’s 
only claims for election consisted in the facts that he had 
been a member of the Legislature for four years pre- 
viously, and he had always howled against the “ crime of 
1873.” Horace’s chances in Judithland were supposed to 
be better than his opponent’s, because the town was be- 
ginning to recover from the silver sickness. But, although 
he became a convert as soon as he decided to run for office, 
yet the fact that he had been a gold bug was a heavy hand- 
icap, under the weight of which even his suave manners 
could hardly prevent him from being entirely distanced in 
the political race. 

The morning of the barbecue was clear and warm. 
Horace came to the grounds about ten o’clock in company 
with a friend, at whose house he had passed the night. A 
large number of people had already arrived, and they were 
gathered around the pits, from which the roasting meats 
for dinner sent forth an appetizing odor. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


75 


After about an hour had been spent by the throng of 
candidates in greeting their friends and in private solici- 
tation of votes, a large majority of those present, who were 
more interested in the object of the meeting than in the 
dinner, adjourned to the part of the grove where the speak- 
ing was to be held. 

At one end of a slight depression in the ground a rude 
platform had been erected for the use of the orators. This 
was half encircled by a number of benches made of rough 
lumber, and the rising ground around was covered with 
hay and dried leaves for the accommodation of those who 
were not able to obtain other seats. Over the heads of the 
assembly some large beech trees nodded and rustled in the 
pleasant breeze, while shielding the speakers and hearers 
from the golden rays of the summer sun. It is true that a 
grove of silver maples had been planted near by for the 
appropriate use of such meetings, but as these trees had 
not attained sufficient size to furnish much shade, only the 
most rampant silver members of the committee had advo- 
cated its use. 

Several candidates for the State Senate who were pres- 
ent were first accorded the privilege of addressing their 
fellow-citizens. The sole and only way in which members 
of the Legislature could have the slightest influence upon 
the monetary system of the nation was in the election of 
United States senator. And as each competitor for this 
office was unquestionably sound on silver, an uninformed 
person would have thought that the speech-makers would 
devote their attention to some of the many important State 
interests which they would have power to build up, if they 
were elected. 

Not so, however. They knew what their constituents 
wished. Each man when he rose sought to distance his 
opponents by new and original ways of expressing his de- 


76 WINGS AND NO EYES 

votion to the white metal and his abhorrence of the “crime 
of 1873.” 

After the senatorial aspirants had subsided, Tomlinsky 
arose to harangue his countrymen. Most of his speech was 
merely a garbled repetition of those preceding, but some 
few sentences here and there may be worthy of preserva- 
tion. 

“Mine frendts, I vass always for silber. Before I comes 
to dis coundry, in de fadderlandt, I vass down on golt. 
When you sent me to de las Legislature I votes for silber 
efry day. (Loud applause.) Efry mornin’ ven I gets up 
I brush mine hair mit a silber brush, an’ I goes to de house 
an’ I votes for silber before I eats breakfas’. (Prolonged 
applause.) * * * 

“Mine frendts, dis young man dat vansh mine place ish 
von golt bug. I hear him say so mineselft ven Mister 
Bryan vass running an’, frendts, I tint it out jus’ de odder 
day. His ladder vass a golt bug forty years ago, he vass. 
He’s a golt bug, an’ his f adder vass a golt bug. You won’t 
gif no golt bug mine place.” (Great applause and shouts 
of “No! No!”) * * * 

“Mine frendts, I vass for de Miss’sippi cow. I don’ 
votes for no Kansas cow. I vass for de Miss’sippi cow an’ 
silber for efrybody, an’ I hope you sent me back to mine 
place.” 

And in the midst of continued applause the perspiring 
orator retired to his seat. 

When Horace Layton arose to reply he perceived a dis- 
tinct feeling of hostility in the minds of his auditors. As 
he had been bom and raised in that section of the county, 
he had known most of them intimately during his entire 
life. On the other hand, Tomlinsky had lived in Judith- 
land barely six years, and his only acquaintance with the 
surrounding farmers consisted in driving hard bargains 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


77 


with them when purchasing stock. But free coinage came 
to set at variance, not only friends, hut even those of one 
household. 

I only propose to give a very much condensed synopsis 
of Horace Layton’s speech. I am writing, not an essay on 
politics, but a love story; and, although it would he as 
unwholesome for a story to be composed all of love as for 
a dinner to be all of sweets, yet a twenty-page speech on 
State issues would be rather too much solid matter for 
what is to follow. 

But if I do not report all of Horace’s eloquence, do not 
think that I have forgotten it. I possess one of those mar- 
velous memories which appertain only to novelists and 
their characters. You may read one of our autobiographi- 
cal romances and the hero who tells the story will repeat 
the most trivial conversations after the lapse of forty years. 
On the other hand, however, Xenophon reported speeches 
which Cyrus and his court uttered some hundred years 
before he was horn. And if a historian is willing to pre- 
varicate, surely a professed story-teller may be allowed to. 

Horace commenced his address by complimenting his 
hearers all around. He praised their wives, their children, 
their crops, their stock and themselves in a most unstinted 
fashion, and stated that his only source of pride was in the 
fact that a benevolent Providence had permitted him to he 
horn and raised among them. 

Now, reader, you may brag about hating persons who 
pay j'ou compliments. I have known plenty of people who 
did. But away down in the bottom of your mind — and 
you have a very profound mind, reader — you know you 
think that a man who can so correctly estimate your worth 
must be an exceedingly clever fellow. 

And this was just what happened to our country friends 
at the barbecue. The adulation which they heard put 


78 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


them in such good humor that they listened quietly to a 
speech entirely in regard to the interests of the State, and 
for half an hour they actually forgot about the free and 
unlimited coinage of silver at the ratio of sixteen to one. 

Horace called attention to the facts that the State of Mis- 
sissippi is still seven-tenths covered with magnificent tim- 
ber; that the soil is very fertile; that land is cheap; that 
the climate, with no extremes of temperature, is the best 
in the Union; that the death rate is lower than any other 
State, except possibly two or three; and that its only need 
is immigrants to develop its unexhausted resources and to 
make their own fortunes at the same time. If sent to the 
State Capitol, he proposed to enact legislation to attract 
stalwart farmers from the bleak Northwest to the land 
where cattle may be pastured out of doors the year round. 
He would invite the cotton manufacturer from New Eng- 
land to the country where the raw material grows at the 
door of the mill, and where labor and fuel are cheap and 
plentiful. And he drew a captivating picture of the ad- 
vantages sure to accrue to the farmer by such an influx of 
capital. 

But Tomlinsky, who had been listening with barely con- 
cealed impatience, began to get nervous. He did not like 
the attention which Horace was receiving; and when a 
round of applause was bestowed upon our friend after an 
unusually optimistic sentence, Tomlinsky began to call out 
as soon as the noise would allow his voice to be heard : 

“Mishter Laytont! Mishter Laytont! Ish you a golt 
bug? Dot’s vat ve vanshts to know. Ish you a golt bug? 
Ish you a golt bug?” 

Alas! he broke the spell. What chance had an advocate 
of prosperity to be gained by hard work to argue when the 
voters, one and all, were chasing a will-o’-the-wisp, with 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


79 


the firm conviction that they would obtain money for 
nothing if they could succeed in catching it ? 

Horace felt his disadvantage at once, but he replied with 
a smiling countenance : 

“Why, Mr. Tomlinsky, I promise right now, that if my 
good friends will honor me by allowing me to represent 
them in the Legislature I will vote for the free and un- 
limited coinage of silver at the ratio of sixteen to one 
whenever I have a chance.” 

But Tomlinsky was not to be silenced by any such prom- 
ise as that; and, getting more and more excited, he contin- 
ued to cry out : 

“Ish you a golt bug? Ve don’t care how you votes. Ish 
you a golt bug? Ish you a golt bug?” 

Horace, in vain, endeavored to obtain sufficient quiet to 
explain his opinion on the subject. Tomlinsky’s cry was 
taken up all through the audience, and the speaker was 
finally hooted off the stand amid prolonged shouts of 
“Gold bug, gold bug!” “Sit down, sit down!” 

In private solicitation Horace had little more ‘success 
with the electors. A few of the more intelligent farmers 
were able to appreciate the strength of his argument; that, 
even if they were unwilling to trust his recent accession 
to the silver camp; yet, as no question concerning the 
white metal could possibly come before the Legislature for 
decision, he would have no opportunity for treachery. 

But the great majority of the voters, and among them 
some men with whom he had been on the most intimate 
terms since his boyhood, passed him by with a stare, or 
possibly a faint nod; and if he attempted to join a group in 
conversation they would deliberately turn their backs and 
walk away. Such was the height at which this madness 
still lingered in the country districts, that men made it a 
personal matter that other men should disagree with them. 


80 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


But now the dinner-horn, sounded and the company 
speedily gathered around the rough hoard tables. Each 
guest was served with a chunk of barbecued beef, mutton 
or pork, as he chose, upon wooden “ picnic plates” and 
accompanied by a large piece of baker's bread. 

And, really, meats cooked in this way are delicious. It 
may be the savage part of our nature which is gratified by 
a return to a primitive method of cookery. The open air 
in which the food is served may add to the charm. But if 
you do not believe that barbecued meats are good, just 
try them. That is all I have to say. 

The only beverages which the committee furnished were 
coffee, lemonade and water. Tomlinsky had provided a 
•large jug of "red-eye,” but it was patronized only to a lim- 
ited extent. The taste for whisky must be acquired amid 
convivial surroundings, and a swallow or two of the fiery 
stuff out of a jug is not apt to attract a young man. True 
»it is that the jug trade in our prohibition counties excites 
much attention among interested parties at times. But 
fifty jugs at the county express office make a great show at 
Christmas. And what does fifty gallons of whisky amount 
to among fifty thousand people? 

Another candidate had furnished a couple of kegs of 
beer to treat his constituents; but, although this was more 
popular than the stronger liquor, yet one of the kegs 
was nearly full when the day closed. The taste for beer 
is also acquired, while that for water comes by nature. 

After dinner was over, certain solicitants for official po- 
sitions in the county proclaimed their detestation of tha 
yellow metal from the rostrum. Horace, however, did not 
wait to hear these denunciations. Hitching up his horse, 
he drove off to town in the blaze of the afternoon sun. 

To say that he was disgusted with his countrymen seems 
to be too feeble a term to express his feelings. After all 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


81 


the bother of his canvass, to be treated in such a fashion 
was simply outrageous. He was sorry that he had taken 
the trouble to arm himself for the combat. He would 
withdraw now, hut he had already requested that his name 
he printed upon the official ballots, and it seemed to 
him cowardly to retire from the tournament after he had 
entered the lists. 

He consoled himself with the reflection, however, that 
if he was not elected to the Legislature he would be saved 
a great deal of worry and annoyance; and just as he armed 
at this comforting conclusion, and, tired and dusty, ap- 
proached Judithland in the cool of the evening, he met 
David Elmore driving out the girl he was engaged to be- 
hind Colonel Elmore’s fast horse. 


82 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER IX. 

Rosamond’s way. 

D AVID ELMORE slept but little the night after 
the picnic. Mortification over his broken engage- 
ment and despair of success in his love affair pre- 
vented him from closing his eyes until nearly morning. 
Poor David did not understand the motives, or rather the 
absence of motives, which characterize a young girl’s con- 
duct. He pictured her floating up the aisle in radiant 
white to meet Dr. Houston at the altar, while the familiar 
wedding march resounded from the organ and he himself 
watched the couple from the outer darkness. Lack of self- 
confidence in a man is a serious deficiency. But, really, 
did not we feel so and spend similar sleepless nights when 
we had our first attacks of love? 

Afterwards it comes easier. A man may love, and love, 
and love again; but the first time is when it shakes the firm 
foundations of his being. 

I am afraid that David’s business suffered the next day. 
Fortunately, as it was summer, there was comparatively 
little doing in commercial circles; but, nevertheless, his 
cash persistently refused to balance, and it was late at 
night before he finally located his errors and closed the 
bank where he had been at work alone. 

He came to a new resolution that evening. He never 
expected to go to Columba’s home again, and the thought 
that he could ever love another woman did not enter his 
head. But he had a morbid fear of being laughed at, and 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


83 


as people in small towns take much more interest in their 
friends’ affairs than they do in their own, he determined to 
cut short their ridicule by paying pronounced attention to 
some other girl. 

Among all the young women of his acquaintance, he 
considered that Rosamond Lattimer would he the most 
suitable for his purpose. He knew, of course, that she was 
engaged to Horace; but he also knew how many other men 
she had been engaged to during the past five or six years, 
and in this instance people said there was small prospect 
of a speedy marriage. 

And then she was unquestionably the most beautiful 
woman in Judithland, as well as the most intelligent and 
agreeable. Can you realize how David could have thought 
so? It is a fact that a man may love one woman to distrac- 
tion and yet know, with his mind, that in many respects 
she is inferior to others. He probably will not admit it, 
even to himself, but he knows it all the same. 

The truth is, that during the few years just passed David 
had really enjoyed the company of Rosamond more than 
that of the woman whom he loved. I am giving you a 
number of paradoxes; but, take my word for it, that they 
are absolutely true. When he was with Columba he felt 
painfully shy and awkward, frequently sitting for an hour 
without saying a word, while she invariably devoted her 
attention to anyone else who was present, and only occa- 
sionally had something halfway rude to say to David. 

On the other hand, Rosamond always took particular 
pains to draw him out. She never interrupted his half- 
formed sentences or laughed at his hesitating flowers of 
speech. And when on his homeward road from a tete-a- 
tete with her, he invariably had the comfortable feeling 
that he had said some good things and held up his end of 
the conversation remarkably well. 


84 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


David did not know that this was only Rosamond’s way, 
and that she bestowed the same kind of attention upon all 
her admirers. But if he had, I do not believe that it would 
have made any difference. While he much enjoyed being 
appreciated, he did not think that he possessed a monopoly 
of the merit of the world. Indeed, he supposed that he 
had very little of it. 

He did not wish to go to the home of Mamye Clay for 
tea the next Sunday evening; hut as he had promised, of 
course, as a gentleman, he must keep his engagement. He 
excused himself, however, and left as soon after tea as he 
politely could; although Mamye insisted that he should 
stay longer, and told him that he would he sure to find Dr. 
Houston at Mrs. Wilmot’s. 

Young women like Mamye are not attractive to men of 
good breeding. A refined gentleman does not like a girl to 
“throw herself at his head,” as the saying is, which Mamye 
was continually doing. It is customary in modern society 
for men to make the advances, and there are many delicate 
ways in which a woman may display her preference with- 
out coarsely giving it utterance. # 

To be sure, fast girls find their admirers among a certain 
class of men, and at times receive a great deal of attention. 
But I do not believe that even these men generally care to 
marry them. 

It was in pursuance of David Elmore’s newly-formed 
resolution to pay attention to some other girl that Horace 
Layton met him driving with Rosamond Lattimer, when 
Horace was returning to Judithland after the barbecue. 

“Mr. Elmore,” said Rosamond, “I have been just long- 
ing to see you all day. I had a letter from a friend of mine 
this morning who wants me to give her some advice, and I 
do not know anybody who could do it as well as you can.” 

Rosamond had addressed David as Mr. Elmore ever since 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


85 


he first began to go out into society. It always pleases a 
young man to receive a title from older people, while an 
elderly bachelor likes to have the debutantes call him by 
his Christian name. 

“Why, Miss Rosamond,” he replied, very much flattered, 
while a faint glow of color began to tinge his cheeks, “I 
shall be delighted to help you in any way in my power.” 

“I knew you would,” she returned, with a smile, “and 
that was the reason why I asked you. You see, my friend 
writes that she is engaged to a man and — well, she says 
she has gotten tired of him. I really do not think that she 
was in love with him when it started; but she writes me 
that she was, so I suppose that we ought to believe her. 
But, anyway, she wants to break it off now, and she doesn’t 
know exactly how to do it. You see, Mr. Elmore, when a 
man gets to be between thirty-five and forty years old he 
generally has such stereotyped ways. Every girl knows 
when he makes pretty speeches to her that he has said the 
same things in the same way to dozens of other girls, and 
somehow it takes away all the interest. My friend’s fiance 
is getting pretty old, and I suppose that is the reason why 
she is tired of him. Anyhow, she wants some advice about 
what she ought to do, and that is the reason why I ask you. 
A man always knows so much more about such things than 
a woman does. You don’t think that she ought to marry 
him just because she promised, do you?” 

“I do not think that anyone ought to marry if they do 
not love,” he responded. “But I do not think, either, that 
she ought to have engaged herself to him unless she was in 
love with him.” 

She made a little face at this, not enough to be notice- 
able, for she had excellent control over her countenance. 

“But do you not think that she might have been mis- 
taken ? Or she might have been in love with him and got- 


86 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


ten over it after she became more intimately acquainted 
with him and found out how many faults he had.” 

“I do not believe that anybody could mistake being in 
love,” said David, solemnly shaking his head; “and I know 
that a person who is once in love can never get over it. 
The faults of the one you love have nothing to do with it.” 

“That is what Tennyson said,” she replied. “ ‘Love is 
love for evermore.’ Do you know, it is wonderful how 
much more a man knows about such things without being 
taught than a woman does. Now, I have never been in 
love, either; but I do not know half as much about it as 
you do. I would have thought that a person might love a 
good many different times — of course, with some years 
between. It must be very nice,” she continued, reflectively, 
with a faint tinge of sadness in her voice, “to know that 
there was someone in the world who loved you, and for 
whom you would go around the world on your knees, if it 
pleased him to have you do it.” 

He made no reply, and, glancing at him out of the cor- 
ners of her eyes, she perceived the embarrassed flush spread 
over his face, which always appeared when David thought 
of his unpromising love affair. 

For some minutes they rode in silence, while their horse 
climbed slowly up a long hill, on either side of which clay 
banks covered with honey locusts shut out the last despair- 
ing rays of the setting sun. 

But when they reached the summit, the resplendent sight 
which greeted them was an ample compensation for the 
gloom of the valley they had just passed through. 

The sun was going down like a blood-red ball sinking 
into a purple sea. He seemed to know that his store of 
colors would soon be annihilated by the sable hue of night, 
and he scattered them on the clear dome of heaven with 
lavish profusion. And yet, with such care did he work 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


87 


that, from the crimson which half surrounded him to the 
fast approaching violet of the east, only Omniscience could 
have told where one tint ended and another began. 

David stopped his horse at the top of the hill, and he 
and Rosamond gazed upon the sunset in silence. 

“Isn’t it magnificent?” said Rosamond, finally. “I al- 
ways think that the gates of heaven must look something 
like that.” 

“Can you blame the ancients for worshiping the sun?” 
she continued, after the orb of day had departed and the 
horse had taken up the interrupted thread of his journey. 
“I do not see how they could have done anything else.” 

“I certainly cannot,” said David. “They knew as well 
as we do that everything good in this world comes from 
the sun, and it was only natural for them to worship the 
giver of life and health.” 

“It seems strange, does it not,” she said, “that every- 
thing in the world comes from that little red hall that we 
just now saw go out of sight. It is hard to believe.” 

“And yet it is literally true,” returned David. “I re- 
member reading a pretty legend once about how the sun 
gave man his best gift.” 

“Oh, please tell it to me, David — Mr. Elmore, I mean. 
I do love old legends. I think they are charming.” 

“I am afraid that I have forgotten it. I learned it by 
heart when I was a hoy, because I thought it was pretty; 
hut it has been such a long time ago.” 

“Please try to remember it,” she entreated. “Tell me 
as much of it as you can, anyhow. I do love legends.” 

“Well,” he said, after a few moments’ reflection, “it 
went somewhat like this : 

“Once a man stood alone on a cliff, and he cried to the 
rising Sun : 

“‘Oh, great Sun, I am lonely. Give me a companion.’ 


88 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

“And the Sun said : ‘I have given thee the trees of the 
forest and the flowers of the plain. What more dost thou 
need?’ 

“But he answered : ‘The trees find their company in the 
breeze and they laugh at me, and if I take the flowers to 
my heart, lo, they wither and die. Give me a companion/ 

“And the Sun said : ‘Have I not given thee the beasts of 
the field and the fowls of the air for thy companions? Are 
not these enough?’ 

“But he answered: ‘The animals run far away when I 
approach, and the birds mount up to heaven when I come 
nigh. And, oh, great Sun, I am lonely. Give me a com- 
panion/ 

“And the Sun said : ‘Have I not given thee the dog and 
the horse to be the friends of man? Why ask you for an- 
other?’ 

“But he answered : ‘The horse bears me in the chase by 
day and the dog guards my habitation by night, but my 
joys and my sorrows they cannot share. Oh, great Sun, 
give me a companion.’ 

“Then the Sun said : ‘All my good gifts have I lavished 
on thee, and still they are not enough. Shall I rob heaven 
itself for thy sake?’ 

“But the man cried the more: ‘Give me a companion, 
great Sun, for I perish in this solitude.’ 

“Then the Sun had compassion on the man because that 
he was unhappy, and he took of the celestial ether and 
fashioned him a woman. From the blue of the sky he made 
her eyes, and her hair was golden as the sunbeams. Her 
bosom was round and white as the summer clouds, and he 
tinted her cheeks and her lips with the rosy hues of the 
west. He made her tall and stately as an angel, and en- 
dowed her with his own sunny disposition. 

“And he brought her to the man as he sat bemoaning 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


89 


his desolate fate. And when the man saw her he was glad, 
and he bowed himself and said: Tor that she is a part 
of heaven, I will worship her forevermore/ 

“There is a little more of that legend,” David continued, 
“but I believe I had rather not repeat it. I don’t alto- 
gether agree with the man who wrote it, and I think he 
must have had a little family fuss just before he fin- 
ished it.” 

“Oh, but that is beautiful, David, beautiful. You have 
such good taste. And I don’t see how you could remember 
it all. I cannot memorize two sentences. But, Mr. El- 
more, please tell me the rest of it. You know that all 
women are as inquisitive as the sunbeams.” 

“Yes, Miss Rosy, that is true. But remember Eve and 
Pandora and Mrs. Bluebeard. Think what trouble they 
got into because they wanted to know everything.” 

She made a comical little face at this, and her voice had 
just a faint suspicion of a caress in it as she replied : 

“Yes, but that was because the men who wrote those 
stories hated women, and didn’t want them to learn any- 
thing. I am sure that you would not treat me that way.” 

“You are right, Miss Rosamond, I wouldn’t. And it 
was just because I had such a high opinion of women that 
I did not want to tell you the rest of the legend. It is not 
complimentary.” 

“Well, if it is so very bad,” she said, smiling, “I will try 
to forgive you for it, and maybe I can succeed. But you 
must tell me anyhow.” 

“Well,” he replied, “it ended this way: 

“ ‘Worship her not,’ said the Sun, ‘worship her not. Be 
kind to her and just to her, but let her pay respect unto 
thee. Set her not up as an idol in thy house, but may she 
be thy companion and helper, looking to thee for direction 
and guidance. For be well assured that the powers of na- 


90 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


ture are man’s friends, while he governs them to his uses, 
hut unrestrained they are his devastating tyrants. If you 
rule her kindly she will love thee forever, hut allow her to 
reign over thee and she despises thee. And remember that 
the blue sky in her eyes may become overcast; that thunder 
and lightning come from the summer clouds, and that 
e\ren the sun may scorch with a fervent heat.’ 

“And the man took his wife, and unto this day it has 
been even so. The woman who is ruled loves, hut she who 
exercises command holds the man in contempt.” 

Eosamond remained silent for a few moments after 
David ceased speaking. 

“It is not exactly complimentary,” she said, slowly, “hut 
I believe that it is true. I do not think that I could love 
a man who would let me manage him. It would show so 
little character.” 

“But, Miss Eosamond,” said David, earnestly, “how 
could anyone have any idea of ruling a person whom he 
loved? If I loved a woman I should worship the very 
ground she walked on, and how could I think for a mo- 
ment of commanding her to do anything that she did not 
wish to do ?” 

“No, I would not like a man to command me to do a 
thing, either. It makes everybody obstinate to be ordered 
around. And neither do I think that a man should inter- 
fere with little things which concern his wife entirely. I 
hate a man who is always meddling with such things. But 
at the same time’ I know that there are many things in 
every family which must be decided by one person or tne 
other, and I could have no respect for a man who would 
give up their decision to me. Why, do you know, I have 
actually known men who would let their wives buy their 
clothes for them. What poor-spirited creatures they must 
have been !” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


91 


Just before she retired that evening, Rosamond lit the 
gas upon each side of her dressing-table and gazed for a 
long time at the reflection in her mirror. Two tiny pen- 
eilings were beginning to appear at the corners of her eyes 
like the first faint ripples in the streamlet which precede 
the coming rapids. 

She eyed them with disfavor. 

“He’s a nice boy,” she said to the image in the glass. 
“He’s a nice boy. What a little fool Columba Wilmot is! 
I wonder why he loves her?” 

She commenced to rub the wrinkles in a vain attempt 
to make them disappear. 

“He’s a nice boy,” she said again. “I am not much 
older than he is. I know I can cut out that little fool, and 
then — He’s a nice boy. Well, I don’t know.” 

She hastily turned out the lights and disappeared in the 
darkness. 

What didn’t she know? If she didn’t know, reader, 
surely you and I cannot understand. Besides, what right 
have we to listen to a maiden’s meditations in the privacy 
of her own apartment, anyhow ? 


92 


.WINGS’ AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER X. 

A PERSISTENT SUITOR. 

O N the same Sunday evening which we spoke of in 
the last chapter it happened that Columba Wilmot 
had again gone with Dr. Houston to call upon his 
mother. You may consider it not altogether proper for 
the young lady to go to the home of her lover so fre- 
quently; indeed I, myself, disapprove of it; hut really I do 
not believe that Miss Columba cared a spoonful of baking 
powder about what we would think of her conduct. 

She invited Dr. Houston to ask her to tea on Friday, 
because she wished to be out of the way when David came 
to take her to the picnic, and as Mrs. Houston had been 
slightly unwell that evening, and only saw her for a few 
minutes, leaving her to take tea alone with her admirer, 
Columba expressed a wish to see his mother again to in- 
quire about her health, which wish, of course, the doctor 
was delighted to gratify. 

For Dr. Houston considered that the best method for 
him to win the hand of his sweetheart would he found in 
publicity. While, of course, he had too much sense to 
untruthfully say that he was engaged to Miss Columba, 
yet he always denied it in a smiling fashion, which caused 
people all the more to think it a fact. He did this delib- 
erately, because he knew that there is no prescription for 
the prevention of rivals one-tenth part so efficacious as 
that of an accepted suitor taken daily. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


93 


At the time our story opened, the doctor’s method of 
procedure had worked so well that Columba rarely received 
a visit from any other man, with the single exception of 
David Elmore, who only came because he could hardly 
help himself. This was what usually happens in such 
cases; for, while a man does not, of course, expect to marry 
every woman he visits, yet the sole object of society is, or 
ought to be, the bringing of young people together for the 
purpose of choosing their mates for life; and when a girl 
has already made her choice, there is no reason why other 
men should waste time upon her. 

This Sunday evening, strange to say, Columba expected 
to see David. Why she should, I cannot understand. She 
had been almost unpardonably rude to him, but with a 
woman’s intuition she had long ago divined that he loved 
her, and she apparently believed that no slights or insults 
of hers would have any effect upon him. 

But Dr. Houston came in and told her that David had 
gone to take tea with Mamye Clay; for, as David was now 
his only possible rival, the doctor always took pains to in- 
form Columba of any attention which he paid to other 
girls. The physician had small fear of David’s competi- 
tion, but he generally preferred to be on the safe side; and 
as soon as Columba heard of David’s engagement she at 
once asked the doctor to take her to his mother’s, as I 
stated before. 

“How are you this evening, Mrs. Houston?” Columba 
said, when she and her escort had taken seats upon the 
front gallery. “I hope you feel better than you did Fri- 
day.” 

“Oh, much better, thank you, Columba,” Mrs. Houston 
returned. “Dr. Houston prescribed for me, and I felt 
better right away. It is such a comfort to have a good 
doctor in the family, and I know you will always find it so. 


94 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


What was it you gave me. Doctor? It helped me as soon 
as I swallowed it.” 

It sounds somewhat peculiar for a woman to address 
her son by his title, hut this pair of people firmly believed 
in making every tooth of the rake gather straw. 

“Oh, nothing much, Mother. I thought a nerve tonic 
was indicated, so I gave you a little valerian, with sulphate 
of morphia, of course, and a few other remedies. You 
know it won’t do for a doctor to tell what his prescriptions 
are composed of. People might learn to cure themselves, 
and not send for him any more.” 

“Well, they certainly send for you often enough now. 
You would be surprised, Columba, if you knew how many 
patients the doctor has. They are ringing him up over the 
telephone all night long. It is terribly hard work, but he 
has such a good constitution that it doesn’t seem to hurt 
him any. Some of them pay him twenty-five dollars a 
visit, too, when he has to go out of town. All he needs 
now is a good wife to help him spend his money.” 

“Yes, I think my practice will be very much better after 
I am married,” said the doctor. “There are so many peo- 
ple who do not like to employ an unmarried physician. 
Even Miss Columba here will never send for me when she 
is sick.” 

“Why, I have been having Dr. Chester ever since I was 
a little girl,” returned Columba, “and I never thought 
that it would be exactly right for me to change now. He 
has always been so kind.” 

“Oh, Chester is a good enough doctor in his way,” Dr. 
Houston remarked, somewhat contemptuously; “but he’s 
awfully old-fogy in his notions. You know that young 
Jayne who died here of malarial fever two weeks ago? 
Well, when I was called in I found his temperature a hun- 
dred and ten, and I administered antipyrine, of course. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


95 


and succeeded in getting it down to a hundred and two; 
but his father got scared because he didn’t look natural; 
of course, he couldn’t with all that fever, and he insisted 
on calling in old Chester to consult; and the old fool said 
he didn’t believe in antipyrine, anyhow, and he wanted it 
stopped. And I wasn’t willing; of course, I knew how to 
treat the case. But Jayne was so scared that I threw it 
up, and the young fellow died the next day. I could easily 
have pulled him through if his father had left me alone.” 

“Of course, that was what he might have expected,” 
said Mrs. Houston, complacently. “It’s funny that people 
are not willing to trust a good doctor when they get one. 
You don’t send for Dr. Chester very often, I hope, Co- 
lumba, do you?” 

“Oh, I’m sick all the time, Mrs. Houston,” Columba 
responded. “I never do draw a well breath, but I manage 
to drag around somehow. If I didn’t have to help my 
mother I think I’d go to bed and stay there.” 

“You ought to have a good doctor in the family, Co- 
lumba,” the doctor’s mother said. “He could build up 
your constitution in no time.” 

“Oh, well, there’s no hurry, Mother,” said Dr. Houston, 
somewhat impatiently. He harped on this string himself 
continually when alone with Columba, but he did not 
wish anyone else to play his tune for him. “Miss Columba 
can take her own time.” 

Columba said nothing. When tete-a-tete with her 
lover she either laughed at his persistence or abused him 
for it. But she did not wish to quarrel before a third 
party, and she did not feel in a humor for ridicule this 
evening. 

“Did you go to church this morning, Columba?” Mrs. 
Houston asked. 

“No, I couldn’t very well, Mrs. Houston,” Columba an- 


96 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


swered. “I can’t stand those hard benches. I don’t think 
it does you any good to go to church when you are so 
uncomfortable all the time,” 

“I understand Dave took Miss Mamye to St. Andrew’s/’ 
the doctor untruthfully remarked. “They tell me she’s 
going to leave the Baptist Church. Dave certainly is giv- 
ing her a most tremendous rush. He walked home with 
her Thursday, took her to the picnic on Friday, went to 
see her Saturday evening, and has been to her house twice 
to-day. We will have a wedding in the old town before 
long if this thing keeps on. Well, it’s about time Dave 
was getting married, and Miss Mamye would be glad to 
marry anything.” 

“Dave’s not going to marry Mamye Clay,” Columba 
broke out, sharply. “He wouldn’t marry that kind of a 
girl.” 

“Well, maybe you know,” the doctor returned, with a 
slight sceptical laugh. “It looks to me mighty much that 
way, however. A fellow’s not apt to go to see a girl every 
day, unless it is all fixed up.” 

“Why, you come to my house every day,” she replied, an- 
grily, “and I have no idea of marrying you.” 

“That is entirely true. Miss Columba,” he said sooth- 
ingly. “But you know it is the exceptions which prove 
the rule. And I don’t think Dave will be one of the ex- 
ceptions.” 

“Really, Mamye is not a bad kind of a girl,” Mrs. Hous- 
ton interposed. “She is a little wild as yet, but she will 
get over that, and I expect that she will make David a very 
good wife.” 

Columba bit her lip and said nothing. She was sorry 
for her last remark as soon as she had uttered it, because 
she did not wish to be rude to Mrs. Houston. She had 
found out by long experience how very difficult it was to 


WINGS AND NO EYES 97 

make the physician angry; and, therefore, she cared little 
what she said to him. 

As you have perhaps noticed in her short speeches re- 
ported, Mrs. Houston was anxious for her son to marry; 
and, wonderful to relate, she was even willing for him to 
marry Columha. Of course, she knew that Columha was 
nothing like good enough for her son, hut then what girl 
was? And, although she should certainly have preferred 
for him to remain single if he had not studied medicine, 
yet she was firmly convinced of the necessity of a wife for 
a successful physician, and therefore she was ready to sac- 
rifice her own feelings. 

She was considerably puzzled, however, over the length 
of time which her son’s courtship had lasted. How Co- 
lumha or any other girl could fail to jump at such a chance 
was more than she could comprehend. But the doctor did 
not confide his prospects to ,his mother any more com- 
pletely than occasional intimations that he would marry 
the young lady in the end, and so she was compelled to 
remain in ignorance as to the cause of the delay. 

As there seemed to he some friction in the progress of 
the conversation, after a short pause she changed the sub- 
ject. 

“ Didn’t you tell me that Gwendolyn’s novel was nearly 
finished, Doctor?” she asked. 

“Yes, I saw the bulletin down at Wood’s when I went 
there to get my calls this morning. It said that she had 
written the last chapter, and that she only had to revise it, 
and that it probably would he finished in two weeks. It 
said the publishers were wild to get it.” 

“How does it happen that they post the bulletins at 
Wood’s, Doctor?” Mrs. Houston asked. “I should think 
Gwendolyn would send them to the bookstore. Mr. Tres- 
cott sold so many copies of her other hooks.” 


98 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“Oh, yon know, Mother,” he answered, “she sends them 
to the Enquirer office and they put them up at Wood’s be- 
cause it is the most frequented comer. They generally 
come in the morning and they put them on the board so 
as not to keep people waiting until they get out the next 
issue. I think Lady Gwendolyn stipulated that they 
should post them as soon as received when she offered to 
send them.”' 

“What is the new story to he called?” inquired Columba. 

“It has not been announced yet,” replied the doctor. 
“She always keeps that until the last thing. But the 
bulletin this morning said that Lady Gwendolyn would 
remain at home this fall, instead of going abroad, as usual, 
as soon as she finished a story. You know she has always 
said that this country is too common for a genius to write 
about, and she’s been going to Europe to breathe the at- 
mosphere of her stories until the inspiration seizes her, 
when she comes home to write. But this time she has an- 
nounced that she is going to take a sure enough vacation 
and see something of her neighbors.”' 

“I’m real glad of it,” said Columba. “I hope we’ll all 
have a chance to get well acquainted with her. I think it 
would be such a privilege to know a real genius. I’ve only 
met her three or four times.” 

“Why do you suppose that Gwendolyn has never done 
her work in Europe, Doctor?” asked his mother. “It 
seems to me that, as she always writes about Europe, she 
could do better if she stayed there.” 

“I understand she did try to rent one of those old castles 
on the Rhine some years ago,” he returned. “But, of 
course, you know she would have to shut out the tourists, 
and they asked such a whaling big price for it that even 
she couldn’t stand it. She said it wasn’t any use in wast- 
ing her genius writing a story if she had to pay all she got 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


99 


for it for a place to write in; so she turns her home into a 
castle when she is working, and I believe she thinks it does 
about as well.” 

“Oh, I wish I could see her when she is writing a story,” 
Columba exclaimed. “I think it would be perfectly lovely.” 

“Well, you can’t, Columba, I am sorry to say,” said Mrs. 
Houston. “She even objected to seeing the doctor, and 
wanted him to prescribe for her over the telephone; which, 
of course, he would not do. And then she made him dress 
up in a gown and a wig and powder his beard. I wish I 
could have seen him. It must have been awfully funny.” 

“It was plenty of fun when I got the check, though,” 
the doctor remarked, complacently. “A hundred and fifty 
for six visits is pretty good pay, I think. It was funny 
when Miss Zenobia telephoned to ask me to prescribe for 
her. Gwendolyn thought I could hear her heart palpitate 
over the telephone, but she was so scared that she was 
afraid to get up and go to it, and Miss Zenobia made her 
negro men move it to the bed; and, of course, they broke 
the connection and couldn’t get it fixed, and one of them 
had to hustle in here for me as fast as he could.” 

“Was she much sick, Dr. Houston?” asked Columba. 

She had heard this story before, and if she had been 
alone with her admirer she probably would have told him 
so. But as she had been quite rude a few minutes before, 
she was anxious to atone to Mrs. Houston for it by ap- 
pearing much interested in her son’s conversation. 

“She wasn’t sick at all, Miss Columba,” he answered. 
“She had taken too much food on her stomach at one 
time, that was all. But she thought she was dying, and it 
shows how powerfully her work affects her, because even 
then she wouldn’t have me come on the place without 
being dressed in a costume which would not disturb her 
environment. Miss Zenobia made me talk to her in the 


- L. of C. 


100 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


style of her story, and I expect to have a prominent place 
in this novel as an old Jew with a white heard and a fur 
cap. 

“How awfully interesting !” murmured Columba. “It 
must be perfectly lovely to be a genius and be able to write 
such splendid stories.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


101 


CHAPTER XI. 


A PARTY IN PROSPECT. 



OHN COBBS was furiously angry with Horace Lay- 


ton on account of the failure of his assault on the 


heiress; and, after a violent altercation, they stopped 
speaking to each other. 

This was not so annoying to Mrs. Wilmot’s household 
as it might have been, because John being always early 
and in a hurry, and Horace always late, they did not meet 
at meals. 

Just about this time Horace found everything going 
somebody else’s way. His row with John Cobbs bothered 
him, because it was considerable trouble to remember to 
pass without speaking when they met on the street. It 
also deprived him of his afternoon chess, of which he was 
very fond. He never thought of procuring a set of men 
and a board for himself. In addition to the fact that his 
canvass was progressing so unsatisfactorily, his sweetheart 
all at once turned cold and bestowed her favor on another 
man. 

Horace really cared as little for Rosamond as he did for 
the office for which he was a candidate, and he would will- 
ingly have given up either on very slight provocation. 
But it is one thing to abandon some object which we do 
not wish, of our own accord, and quite a different matter to 
have another man take it from us with a strong hand. It 
was on this account that Horace began actually to exert 


102 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


'himself to retain his fiancee, and to obtain his office, as 
he perceived that his chances for both were fading away. 

Rosamond might ask advice as to the best method of 
putting an end to an engagement, but certainly she did 
not need any. All women understand how to accomplish 
such a task without being taught and to make it appear 
that the separation is entirely the fault of the man. 

Really, it is very simple, and especially so if there is 
another man obtainable to devote himself to the girl. 

First, she tells her betrothed that she does not wish to 
go everywhere with him, as there will be plenty of time for 
that after they are married. Then he must not come to 
her house so often, for people will talk, and she wishes to 
keep the engagement secret for a time. After this she 
spends her evenings with the other man continuously, and 
when her affianced remonstrates, as he naturally must, he 
gets a note accompanied by a ring, some letters and a few 
other trifles. In the note she is heartbroken because she 
has bestowed her love on a man who does not care for her, 
as she knows that a man who loved her would trust her. 
She could never marry a man who possessed such a jeal- 
ous disposition, as he would be angry if she even looked 
at another man. She sends back his presents and will 
never see him again, but never expects to get over his 
breaking her heart in such a cruel fashion. And there are 
about six pages more of the same kind, which ends his 
little affair. 

Rosamond formed a correct estimate of David’s disposi- 
tion. With most men she knew that a rival is a great in- 
centive. But she thoroughly understood David’s lack of 
egoism; and, knowing that he loved another girl, she 
thought her best chance would be in establishing a friendly 
intimacy, which later might ripen into something more 
definite. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


103 


“Good-evening, Mr. Cobbs,” said David, coming into the 
store one afternoon about three weeks later. “Good-even- 
ing, Miss Mamye. Is there no chess going this evening?” 

“Why, hullo, Davy,” said John, looking up from the 
ledger on which he was at work and turning round on his 
office stool. “Where’d you come from? There ain’t no- 
body to play no more, Bo. Miss Mamye’ll, play hearts 
with you, if you want to, and I reckon she’d play hands, 
too, if you give her any kind of a chance. Wouldn’t you, 
Miss Mamye?” 

“Dave don’t want to play hearts with me,” Mamye Clay 
responded. “He’s dead in love with Rosy Lattimer. 
They’re going to be married in the fall.” 

“Yes,” said John, grinning, “and I’m dashed glad of it. 
“Excuse me for saying it. Miss Mamye, but I never can 
think of that fellow Layton without cussing. The scoun- 
drel is getting left all ’round these days. Dave’s going to 
marry his girl, and Tomlinsky is going to do him up to- 
morrow as sure as I’m a foot high.” 

“Do you think he will lose the election to-morrow?” 
asked David, willing to change the subject from his own 
affairs. “I don’t take much interest in politics, but I 
thought ’most everybody was going to vote for him.” 

“Oh, he’ll get a fair-sized vote in the city, Bo,” John 
answered; “but the county will smash him sho’. I was 
talking to an old duck from the rural districts yesterday, 
and he said he wouldn’t get ten votes out of town. Those 
fellows can’t swallow a gold bug no more than Miss Mamye 
can get some fellow to marry her.” 

“That’s only because I won’t have them,” Mamye re- 
joined, pertly. “You asked me yourself the first day you 
came before you thought about riding out to try to catch 
Gwendolyn. You know you did.” 

This was a tender subject with John Cobbs, and his 


104 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


flame-colored face grew redder and redder. He had had 
several quarrels with men who were inclined to poke fun 
at him on account of his misadventure. But, of course, he 
was never intentionally rude to a girl no matter what she 
said, so he frowned and kept silent, while she rose and 
went to meet Mrs. Medlock, who had just entered the store. 

“I want to see you a minute, Mamye,” Mrs. Medlock 
began. “Who is that back there? Oh, only Mr. Cobbs and 
Mr. Elmore. I will go back and sit down for a little 
while. I am tired, ’most to death. I walked all the way out 
to call on those new people who have taken the old Bare- 
field house, and when I got there the woman sent word 
that she was busy, wouldn’t I call again? And the worst 
part of it is that they are Methodists, and I have to go, 
and I can’t even tell her what I think of her. Oh, what 
I wanted to ask you, Mamye, was this. Where did you get 
the pattern for that — Why, good-evening, gentlemen, 
good-evening. Don’t get up. I will sit over here. I hope 
I am not interrupting anything. I won’t stay a minute. I 
just wanted to ask Mamye for a pattern. I just saw your 
old sweetheart, Mr. Elmore, driving out with Dr. Houston. 
You were quite right to console yourself as you have; quite 
right. I think Miss Rosamond is a mighty nice girl, and 
she will make you a good wife. I declare I shall be real 
sorry when the parsonage is finished. I am having so 
much fun teasing Columba and Mr. Layton. He rather 
got the best of me when I first went to Mrs. Wilmot’s, but 
since you cut him out I never give him a minute’s peace. 
He’s really getting sensitive on the subject. I was walk- 
ing with Mrs. Houston just now, Mr. Cobbs, and she was 
telling me that Gwendolyn had finished her story and is 
going to give a house-party to celebrate its completion. 
It’s going to be called 'The Kiss of Death.’ Mrs. Hous- 
ton told me that the bulletin says that it is even better 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


105 


than the other stories which Gwendolyn has written, and 
that she is certain to make a lot of money out of it. Now 
is your chance if you want to get a good wife. Gwendolyn 
is not going to Europe this fall, she’s going to stay right 
here, and it probably will be three or four months before 
she starts another story. You ought to make pretty good 
progress in that time.” 

“I ain’t going to dress up like a fool no more,” said 
John, frowning. “I wouldn’t do it for all the women in 
the world.” 

“Why, no, you don’t have to,” Mrs. Medlock returned. 
“Gwendolyn is a good deal like other people when she is 
not at work on a story. You would hardly realize, when 
you meet her, what a great genius she is. But you must 
be certain not to call her Miss. She prefers to be called 
Lady Gwendolyn, or just plain Gwendolyn; but if you 
were to call her by her real name. Miss Smith, she would 
never speak to you again.” 

“Well,” said John, “if I don’t have to cover up my head 
no more, I reckon I would stand a pretty good show. But 
how can I get an introduction, Mrs. Medlock?” 

“Why, ’most anybody would take you out to Castle 
Montmorency to call. But, really, you ought to go to the 
house party. Are you going, Mr. Elmore? Can’t you get 
Mr. Cobbs an invitation?” 

“I just got one about two hours ago myself,” David re- 
plied, “but I hardly know Miss Gwendolyn well enough to 
ask her to invite anybody else. I cannot say yet whether 
I can get off to go or not.” 

“Oh, you ought to go, by all means, Mr. Elmore,” said 
Mrs. Medlock. “Columba is going, and Dr. Houston will 
go out every evening and stay all night. Are you going, 
Mamye?” 

“I haven’t been invited,” Mamye answered, in an in- 


106 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


jured tone of voice. “But I don’t know Gwendolyn very 
well/’ she added. 

“That is too bad/’ returned Mrs. Medlock, soothingly; 
“and after your selling so many copies of her books, too. 
Never mind, Mamye, I haven’t been asked, either. We’ll 
have a house-party of our own some day. I don’t see why 
Gwendolyn should leave you out.” 

“That’s dead easy, Mrs. Medlock,” said John, grinning. 
“Gwendolyn knows that if Miss Mamye was in the pot 
that she’d try to run off with some of her men, and she 
wants them all herself.” 

“Why, you won’t be there for me to run off with,” 
Mamye retorted. “And I know you don’t think Gwen- 
dolyn would miss anybody else.” 

“Good-evening,” said Horace Layton, who had entered 
the store without being noticed by anyone. 

John looked up and scowled, and turning round to his 
desk he picked up his pen. 

“I haven’t got a minute to stay,” Horace went on. “I 
just wanted to say, Mr. Cobbs, that I got a note from 
Gwendolyn this afternoon, and she asked me to suggest two 
or three men for her to ask to her party. She’s been keep- 
ing to herself so much that she is somewhat short on 
gentlemen friends. If you want to go, I will send her 
your name.” 

“Don’t think I can go,” said John, shortly, without 
looking up from his ledger. 

“Well, think it over and let me know in the morning. 
I haven’t time to sit down. I am very busy just now. 
Good-evening.” 

And the lawyer walked away with a quick step, quite un- 
like his usual languid movement. 

“Why, that’s the very thing, Mr. Cobbs,” said Mrs. Med- 
lock, briskly. “How lucky it is for you!” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


107 


John turned on his stool and sullenly watched the at- 
torney, as he disappeared from view at the front of the 
store. 

“I ain’t going nowhere that fellow asks me,” he said. 

“Why, he won’t ask you,” Mrs. Medlock rejoined. “He 
will only suggest your name, and Gwendolyn will ask 
you herself. And, really, Mr. Cobbs, I don’t think that you 
ought to be so angry with Mr. Layton, because you did not 
succeed that time. It was not his fault that you didn’t 
get to Castle Montmorency. And, really, I believe that if 
you had gotten out there you would have succeeded. I 
don’t think that you could have found a better way to win 
Gwendolyn’s heart.” 

“Well, maybe so,” returned John, his frown somewhat 
relaxing. “But he went and covered up my head, and I 
couldn’t have no show, if she couldn’t see me.” 

“Of course you had to dress like a knight,” the preach- 
er’s wife responded, “and the knights always wore helmets 
on their heads. I am so sorry that I did not get to see you 
that morning. I think it was real mean in Mr. Layton not 
to let anybody know anything about it.” 

“Oh, he looked perfectly beautiful, Mrs. Medlock,” said 
Mamye. “Didn’t he, Dave? And he had every little nig- 
ger in town to go along with him, just like a circus par- 
ade. Why, where are you going, Davy?” she added, as 
David rose and picked up his hat. 

“I must be going,” he replied. “I have an engagement.” 

“I guess we know where you are going, Mr. Elmore,” 
said Mrs. Medlock, smiling. “But it is no use going there 
this afternoon, because Rosamond is at Mrs. Blank’s re- 
ception. I met her going there just before I came in 
here. And that reminds me that I have to go there my- 
self,” she continued, rising. “I will walk along with 
you, Mr, Elmore, Good-by, Mamye, I will see you at tea 


108 WINGS AND NO EYES 

to-night, Mr. Cobbs, and talk to yon about the houses 
party.” 

“There,” Mrs. Medlock exclaimed, suddenly interrupt- 
ing her own conversation, which had flowed continuously 
while she and David walked several blocks after leaving 
the store; “if I didn’t forget to ask Mamye about that 
pattern. Maybe I will see her at the reception, though, 
if she can get away from the store soon enough.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


109 


CHAPTER XII. 

A LOST SWEETHEART AND A HOPELESS ELECTION. 

T HE morning of the primary election was cloudy 
and threatening. It had been raining during the 
night, and when Horace Layton’s alarm-clock, bor- 
rowed for the occasion, went off at six, and he slowly 
and unwillingly arose and opened his shutters, he saw 
dense masses of watery vapor rolling themselves across the 
sky, apparently uncertain whether they would maintain 
their point of vantage, acquired during the absence of 
their great enemy, and discharge volley after volley of rain- 
drops upon the defenseless earth; or abandon the field to 
the army of the sun, whose early beams were even now 
pressing them in their rear. 

But the general or the cloud who pauses in a career 
of conquest is quite apt to suffer a disastrous reverse; and 
the sun gradually forced his way through the ranks of his 
foes, and came to the relief of his ally. The defeat of the 
storm king’s skirmishers, however, was scarcely accom- 
plished by nine o’clock; and when Horace sleepily com- 
menced his toilet, he was certain that the day was to he 
rainy; and that he had thereby acquired, not only a fight- 
ing chance to win the election, hut even a comfortable 
assurance of victory. 

It is a well-established fact that fair weather is re- 
quired to bring out the vote of the rural districts; and 
even the alluring tones of the free silver bell could not en- 
tice the honest farmer from his home into the wet, 


110 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


A strange characteristic of human nature it is that men 
will fight for years; will give up home, and family, and 
fireside; will sleep out of doors in the snow and the rain; 
will patiently endure wounds, and fever, and death, for the 
privilege of governing themselves; and yet these same 
men are unwilling to walk two hundred yards in a drizzle 
to exercise this right, unless it be to vote for some smooth- 
spoken politician, who seeks the office for the sole purpose 
of robbing the man who put him there. 

Yerily, verily, man is a peculiar creature, and hard to 
understand. 

However, Horace got dressed after awhile, and taking 
an umbrella in one hand and a large bundle under his 
arm, he went out of Mrs. Wilmot’s door. 

Just as he placed his hand on the gate latch a medium- 
sized negro man, in a ragged suit of clothes, splashed 
with mud above the knees, came slouching along on the 
road to the business part of the town. 

“Why, bless my hoots, Cato,” Horace exclaimed, “where 
did you come from? I didn’t know Miss Gwendolyn ever 
let you come to town when she was busy.” 

Horace had become very well acquainted with Gwen- 
dolyn’s coachman, while looking after that lady’s business 
affairs during her frequent absences in Europe. 

“Lawdee, Mister Layton,” the negro replied, with a 
grin which showed a fine set of white teeth. “Lawdee ! Is 
dat you? How you git up so soon in de mawnin’? Fur de 
Lawd’s sake, Boss, don’ tell Miss Gwen’len yo’ done see me 
in heah. I done lose de bes’ place in de county, ef yo’ 
does.” 

“Why, but, Cato, won’t she miss you when she comes 
downstairs? I thought she wanted you every day.” 

“She don’ need me no mo’ now, Boss. Lemme tote yo’ 
bunnel. Mister Layton. Wha ? yo ? gwine so soon in do 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


111 


mawnin’ ? Fur de Lawd’s sake don’ tell Miss Gwen’len yo’ 
done see me in heah.” 

Horace, of course, was glad to surrender his burden, 
and he and Cato walked on together toward the livery 
stable whither he was bound ; the Caucasian being by right 
of his birth about half a step in advance of the African. 

“But I don’t understand,” Horace continued. “You 
say Miss Gwendolyn doesn’t need you any more? She 
hasn’t finished her story, has she?” 

“Dunno ’bout dat. Mister Layton. But she done git troo 
wid all de niggers. Ain’t none ob us seed her fur moFn 
two weeks. She done lock me up in de wood’ouse undeh 
de house. She say I’se de viljon, an’ dat’s de darn gin fur 
keeps, an’ she gwine to keep me dar widout nawthin’ t’ eat 
till I’se dead. She a’ways kill me some’ow w’en she get 
troo wid me. But Tom he lemme out soon as she gone, an’ 
I puts on dese ole close an’ comes in heah ebry mawnin’ jes 
to see de odder niggers. An’ fur de Lawd’s sake, Mister 
Layton, don’ tell Miss Gwen’len yo’ done see me in heah.” 

“Why, of course, I’m not going to tell her, Cato. If 
she’s had you killed, I don’t suppose it makes any differ- 
ence where your ghost walks.” 

“Dat’s right, Boss, haw, haw, dat’s right. Ghosties kin 
walk whar dey pleases in de mawnin’. Dat’s a’right.” 

“But look here, Cato. I think Miss Gwendolyn must 
have nearly finished her story. Cupid brought me in a note 
yesterday evening, asking me to come to her house-party 
next Monday, and you know she wouldn’t have sent him 
unless she was about through with it.” 

Cato stopped suddenly on the sidewalk. 

“Dat so, Boss,” he said. “Den I reckon I mus’ he git- 
tin’ back, ’cause she may be wantin’ her car’ge. I ain’t seed 
none ob de niggers sence yistiddy mawnin’. I tote yo bun- 
nel whar yo gwine, Mister Layton, an’ den I scoot back,” 


112 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

Horace’s early visit to the stable was for the purpose of 
seeing his cloth “advertisement signs” properly placed on 
the hacks which he had engaged to carry his voters to the 
polls. There were only four of these vehicles kept for hire 
in Judithland, and with an unexampled hurst of energy, 
Horace, more than a month before, had obtained the prom- 
ise of all of them for election day, and then had forced 
Oates, the stableman, quite unwillingly, to sign a contract 
to furnish them on that occasion. 

Pleasing himself with the idea of comfortable carriages 
to take his friends to vote, while Tomlinsky’s must trudge 
through the rain or not vote at all, Horace walked briskly 
into the stable, where Oates was seated, tilted back in a 
rush-bottomed chair, calmly chewing tobacco. 

“Good-morning, Mr. Oates,” Horace said. “Are my car- 
riages ready yet? I want to have my signs put up and 
send them to take some of my friends downtown before 
the polls open.” 

Oates looked composedly at him without moving for 
about a minute, and then squirted some tobacco juice from 
between his teeth. 

“Your hacks, you say, Mr. Layton,” he slowly replied. 
“Well, there they is.” 

And there they were, sure enough. Four carriages 
standing in a row. 

“But where are the horses?” Horace asked. “Have 
them hitched up right away, please. I want to get them 
started off as soon as possible.” 

Mr. Oates leaned forward in his chair, spit out his 
mouthful of tobacco juice, and then deliberately tilted 
himself back again and replied : 

“Hosses, you say? I don’t know nothing ’bout no 
hosses. I hire you four hacks, there they is.” 

“Why, what are you talking about ?” said Horace, some- 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


113 


what impatiently. “What use are hacks without the 
horses ? Have them put in right away, Mr. Oates. I want 
to start them off in a few minutes.” 

“Here’s your ’greement, sir,” Oates responded, patting 
one hand on his breast. “Don’t say nothin’ ’bout no 
bosses. Says I hire you four hacks, an’ that’s all.” 

“Why, that is perfectly absurd,” Horace protested. “You 
know very well that in law the intention governs, and not 
the wording. You contracted, to furnish me four hacks, 
and that, of course, includes the horses and the drivers.” 

Mr. Oates looked up at the rafters, then out of the door; 
then he put his hands in his pockets and calmly re- 
sponded : 

“Can’t say nothin’ ’bout no’ntention, Mr. Layton. I 
hire you four hacks, there they is. You can take ’em or 
leave ’em.” 

“D n it all!” exclaimed Horace, angrily. “Are you 

going to get me those horses or are you not? I’ll sue you 
for ten thousand dollars damages if I don’t get them in 
less than ten minutes.” 

The stableman yawned and then took one hand out of 
his pocket and rubbed his eyes. 

“You’ll have to sue, I reckon,” he replied, phlegmat- 
ically. “But I can’t let you have no hosses, ’cause they’re 
gone.” 

“Gone! Where?” 

“Must a’ben stole, I reckon. Anyway, they’re gone 
now.” 

“Stolen? Why, what’s that over there?” cried Horace, 
excitedly, pointing towards the rear of the building, where 
a negro man was just finishing a superfine polish on a 
Kentucky thoroughbred. 

“Colonel Elmore’d git me if I hitch his mare in a hack.” 

“You’ve got some more horses down there, too,” Horace 


114 WINGS AND NO EYES 

shouted. “Are you going to let me have them or are you 
not?” 

“You needn’t sweat under the collar, Mr. Layton,” 
Oates returned, composedly. “Those ain’t my hosses.” 

“D n it all, do you mean to tell me that somebody 

came in here and stole your horses and left all the others?” 

“That’s what I said, sir.” 

“Well, why ain’t you out looking for them?” 

“I’ve had two niggers out for morn’n an hour.” 

Whereupon Mr. Oates took a large plug of tobacco out 
of one pocket and a knife from another. 

“I don’t believe it,” cried Horace, furiously. “I shall 
commence my suit at once, and you’ll hear from me, Mr. 
Oates.” 

Which said, he turned on his heel to walk out of the 
stable. 

“It ain’t my fault, sir,” said the owner of the establish- 
ment, as he began to cut an immense chew of tobacco from 
the plug in his hand. “I can’t let you have no hosses 
when I ain’t got ’em, and anyway I only hire you four 
hacks, and you can take ’em if you want ’em.” 

As soon as the attorney had gone, Oates crossed one leg 
over the other and winked at his man, who came forward, 
leading Colonel Elmore’s mare. 

“There don’t no dam gold bug git any of my hosses,” 
he observed. 

And then he closed his speaking orifice with his chew 
of tobacco and comfortably proceeded to enjoy it and con- 
template the rafters. 

Horace Layton was too mad to think what he was doing; 
and, forgetting his bundle of painted cloth, which Cato 
had deposited in the stable, he strode rapidly up the 
street in a towering passion, and had reached the outskirts 
of Judithland before he realized where he was going, He 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


115 


had based so much of his hopes of success upon the votes 
to be gained by sending the incorruptible electors through 
the rain to the polls in these carriages, that their loss at a 
time when it was hardly possible to replace them was a 
most grievous disappointment. 

He came to himself, however, and turned to walk slowly 
back to breakfast. He set all his gray matter in rapid 
motion in a vain endeavor to think of some means of re- 
trieving his loss; but none of his plans appeared to be 
serviceable. There were a few private carriages kept in 
the city; but, although Horace was well acquainted with 
their owners, he was ashamed to ask to borrow them for a 
purpose of this kind. He believed that he could get the 
use of some dray mules for the day, and he thought of tak- 
ing Oates at his word and utilizing the horseless carriages. 
But he was too angry to return to the stable; and, besides, 
he knew that the liveryman would probably invent some 
other excuse for refusing to let him have them. 

He had just reached the disheartening conclusion that 
he would be compelled to go through the fight without 
any means of conveying his friends to the polls, when, as 
he turned into the street which led to Mrs. Wilmot’s, the 
first rays of the morning sun shone full upon six gayly- 
decorated country wagons which passed Horace, briskly 
moving toward the stable. On each, extending from 
mule’s breast to wagon back, he read in large letters of 
silver the following inscription: 

“Vote for Tomlinsky, the people’s friend. Down with 
the gold bugs.” 

And so it went all day. Horace worked as he had never 
worked before. He borrowed a buggy, and really did 
everything which could be done. But somehow it had 
come out, no one knew from where, that Tomlinsky was 
to be elected, and this announcement, of course, changed 


116 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


many votes; for your average citizen likes to go with the 
crowd, and if he could tell with certainty who would win 
the election, three times out of four he would cast his 
ballot for the prospective victor, regardless of qualifica- 
tions or opinions. 

About nine o’clock that evening Horace abandoned the 
field and left the court-house, where the Judithland bal- 
lots were being counted. As there were a number of can- 
didates and a large vote, the count was not nearly finished. 
But as T'omlinsky had so far been credited with about 
two votes for every one received by our legal friend, and 
as the county was known to be almost solid for the butcher, 
the result of the legislative contest was practically de- 
cided. 

While, of course, Horace was in a measure disappointed 
at the conclusion, yet his principal feeling was one of dis- 
tinct relief that the canvass was over. He had been work- 
ing for more than a week very much harder than he cared 
to do. So thoroughly employed had he been that he had 
not laid eyes on Rosamond Lattimer for about ten days. 

This was the very opportunity which the young lady 
was looking for. She had been seeking a reasonable excuse 
for breaking off her engagement with the attorney for sev- 
eral weeks, but hitherto had found no way of proving him 
to be in the wrong. 

For, as soon as Rosamond began to bestow her favor 
upon David Elmore, Horace redoubled his devotion, and 
until the election fever had become very hot, there was 
really no fault which she could find in his conduct. 

Many a girl in similar circumstances would have been 
unpardonably rude herself and then have blamed the man 
for it all. But this was not Rosamond’s way. While she 
had not the slightest intention of marrying an unprosper- 
ous attorney, yet she really liked Horace, and wished to 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


117 


keep him for a friend, and to terminate her engagement in 
as sweet a manner as possible. And thus the fact that he 
could take more interest in his election prospects than in 
his sweetheart resulted in a kind and regretful note which 
Horace received during the day, and which caused him to 
direct his footsteps toward Mr. Lattimeris residence as 
soon as he left the court-house. 

Rosamond’s father was the possessor of one of the finest 
houses in Judithland. It is also true that the mansion 
was endowed with a fine, large mortgage; but, under our 
modern civilized methods, such skeletons are discreetly 
hidden from the view of the passerby, and are not even to 
be seen in a closet, but only in the strong-room at the 
court-house. 

The ancient Greeks managed differently, and all the 
world could run and read on the pillar of debt the exact 
amount wdrieh the dweller in the palace was required to 
pay before he could properly call his residence his own. 

Would it not be a good idea if we introduced some such 
contrivance at the present time? Suppose that, after a 
fine dinner, a file of the host’s unpaid bills was passed 
around for inspection. We might thus learn exactly 
whom to thank for our comfortable sense of repletion. 
Instead of the urbane gentleman who welcomed us being 
the giver of the feast, that honor should rightfully be 
ascribed to a number of other people. 

Thus the meat market, the fish dealer and the grocer 
had furnished the viands which the cook so deliciously 
served up. The wines which we drank were supplied by 
the liquor dealer. Even the table under which we so com- 
fortably stretched our — well, our pedal extremities — ought 
rightfully to belong to the furniture company, and each 
had small prospect of receiving any return for what he 
had furnished. 


118 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

If we had a system of this kind in operation we might 
have a less number of fine entertainments, but those 
which we had at least w^ould be honest. 

In the obscurity at one end of the veranda of Mr. Latti- 
mer’s residence there was a little nook embowered with 
climbing roses; and there, all unconscious of the mortgage, 
on a settee just big enough for two, Miss Rosamond was 
seated. And when I say the seat would hold only two 
people, you may be sure that I have a good reason for 
making the statement. Indeed, I believe that if there had 
been room for only one in the nook, Rosamond would not 
have been there. 

By the light of the setting moon she saw a well-known 
figure come in the front gate, and she immediately whis- 
pered to the gentleman at her side : 

“Here comes Mr. Layton. Promise me, please, that you 
won’t leave until after he goes.” 

“Why — I — of course I’ll promise if you wish. Miss 
Rosy,” returned David, much flattered. “But I came so 
much before him, would it be polite for me to outstay 
him?” 

“No, I have a particular reason, and you must stay until 
he goes. We’ll keep quiet, and maybe he won’t see us,” 
she added, as her second caller came up the steps. 

But Horace Layton was too well acquainted with Miss 
Rosamond’s methods to be deceived by such a silent pre- 
varication as that. He had been in the nook himself. As 
soon as he reached the veranda he turned his eyes in that 
direction; and, perceiving something white in the dark- 
ness, he at once went towards it. 

David would have given up his seat to the newcomer if 
the lady had not hurriedly whispered to him that he must 
remain where he was. Poor David lacked the ability even 
to retain his rights. But, as it happened, Horace was him- 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


119 


self compelled to go after a chair, an opportunity which 
Rosamond used to reiterate her command to David not to 
leave. 

The old saying that two is company but three is none 
was well exemplified on this occasion; for, after the first 
somewhat awkward greetings, there might as well have 
been no company present, for all the conversation that 
could be heard. 

Horace was somewhat annoyed at finding David there, 
because he wished to explain his lack of attention to Rosa- 
mond, and he was also quite depressed by the result of the 
election. The lady present had nothing to say to her dis- 
carded suitor; and, besides, she was a little bit ashamed of 
the way in which she had broken off from him. And so it 
came to pass, after a few minutes, that diffident David 
was compelled to lift the burden of the conversation him- 
self. 

“Tell us how the election is going, Mr. Layton,” he 
said. “I hope you are going to win.” 

“Thanks, David,” Horace returned. “I think there’s 
hardly a chance of that. Of course, we can’t tell positively 
until the county returns are in, though, and we may have 
to wait for the official count. Candidly, though, I haven’t 
gotten as many votes in the city as I expected.” 

“Why, what was the matter ? I thought ’most everybody 
in town was going to vote for you.” 

“It was all on account of that fellow Oates, and I think 
I have good ground for a suit against him. I engaged all 
his carriages for to-day more than a month ago, and this 
morning he had the assurance to tell me that his horses 
had been stolen. I knew all the time it was a falsehood, 
and I was so mad that I couldn’t see straight. I tried 
every way to get some more horses, but I couldn’t, and I 
believe that lost me the city. And here, this evening, 


120 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


nearly six o’clock, the scoundrel had the insolence to send 
my carriages up to the polls with my announcements on 
them, and told the drivers to tell me he had just got his 
horses hack; and, anyway, he didn’t bargain to hire them 
to me for all day. Everybody was laughing at me, and I’ll 
get ten thousand dollars damages out of him if I get a 
cent.” 

“Why, that was a mean trick. What made him do it?” 

“Why, they’ve all got a notion that I am a gold bug, 
although I’ve told them again and again that I would 
vote for silver if I ever got a chance.” 

The conversation here lapsed again, for Rosamond pre- 
served an obstinate silence, and Horace was not any too 
anxious to talk. After a few minutes David put his shoul- 
der to the wheel and pushed it a little farther along. 

“It must be a good deal of work to run for office,” he 
said. 

“You’re right it is, Dave,” Horace responded. “To tell 
you the truth, I’m sorry I ever went into it. I’ve been 
working like a nigger all this time, and for no use in the 
world. It has kept me so busy that I haven’t had time to 
see my young lady friends, and I don’t believe any of them 
will speak to me any more. I’m blessed glad it’s over 
now, though, and I really hope that I am not elected. I 
shall be saved any amount of bother.” 

Rosamond here broke silence and remarked somewhat 
acidly : 

You do not suppose that any sensible girl would ob- 
ject to a man working, I hope, Mr. Layton. Of all crea- 
tures in this world, I think a lazy man is the most de- 
spicable.” 

Horace instantly saw his advantage. He might be lazy, 
but it never prevented his brain from working quickly. 

“Well, I’m not so sure of that. Miss Rosy,” he replied, 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


121 


with a smile, which, of course, was invisible in the dark- 
ness. “Only this afternoon a young lady friend of mine 
was objecting most strenuously to my being so busy that 
I had not had time to go to see her. Eve always thought, 
too, that she was the most sensible girl I ever knew in my 
life.” 

This retort somewhat confused the young lady. To be 
sure, she had taken the entirely inconsistent position of 
not wishing to marry a man because he was lazy, and then 
breaking off her engagement with him because he went to 
work. But you know that a woman would not be a woman 
if she was consistent, and so you will not be surprised 
when you learn that Rosamond changed sides at once. 

“I do not think a gentleman should ever be too busy to 
call on his young lady friends,” she said. “I hate a man 
who neglects his friends. Don't you think so, David — 
Mr. Elmore, I mean?” she added after a moment's pause. 

“Why — I — yes, I do, Miss Rosamond,'' David returned, 
slowly. “I generally try to get through all my work in 
the daytime so I can go calling at night.” 

“I don't know how it is, Davy,” said Horace, with a 
laugh, “but it seems to me that you are neglecting Miss 
Columba most tremendously these days. Jim Houston 
comes to our house every evening, and you haven't been 
there for a coon's age. He had her out driving this after- 
noon again.” 

David was too embarrassed to reply, and he felt his 
cheeks bum hotly. But Rosamond came to his relief at 
once. She would not allow him to be imposed on if she 
could help it. 

“Why, I am surprised at you, Mr. Layton,” she said, 
resting upon another entirely inconsistent position. “You 
surely do not think because a man has been to see a 
girl a few times that there is any obligation upon him to 


122 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


continue to call. That is one of the principal privileges 
men have — that they can choose their young lady friends 
and go where they please.” 

Really, Miss Rosamond has gotten herself into such a 
tangle of contrary statements in three short speeches that 
I think we will have to leave her to find her way out the 
best she can, or even allow her to remain there, if she pre- 
fers it. However, she succeeded in keeping David until 
after Horace left, which was not so very late, for Horace 
soon divined that the other man intended to sit him out, 
and as this was unprecedented in David’s conduct, the law- 
yer, of course, guessed that. Rosamond had told him not to 
go. Therefore, as he saw no chance of coming to an ex- 
planation that evening and had no desire to annoy the 
lady, he took his departure about eleven o’clock, and David 
Elmore soon followed him. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


123 


CHAPTER XIII. 

CASTLE MONTMORENCY. 

S I mentioned in the first chapter, Castle Mont- 



morency is situated on a little hill, surrounded with 


— l^an inclosure planted thickly with ancient mag- 
nolia trees. 

It is a fine old house, of some thirty rooms, and in the 
ante-bellum days, before the prosperity of the South had 
excited the envy of the people who originated slavery on 
this continent, it had witnessed many a scene of gayety 
and mirth. 

Its spacious halls had resounded to the music of the 
dance, and its guest chambers were ever filled with the 
neighboring gentlefolks. Many were the lovers who had 
strolled by moonlight under the perfume of the magnolias, 
and each daughter of the host remembered a wedding 
breakfast as the end of pleasure and the beginning of 
happiness. 

From the kitchen to the dining-room endless feasts had 
passed; the sideboards were constantly laden with rare 
old French brandies, and the popping of champagne corks 
resounded as continuously as the croaking of frogs in a 
marsh. 

In the ample stables numerous thoroughbreds from the 
blue-grass region stamped and whinnied; while from the 
quarters of the negroes, when the light day’s work was 
done, the real plantation melodies and the hearty laughter 


124 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


which has its only source in entire absence of care, formed 
a fitting foil to the calm of the twilight. 

But alas for the owner of “Idlewild,” as the plantation 
was then called, it is the fixed and immutable law of fate 
that the hill follows the banquet as certainly as the head- 
ache follows the champagne. “Idle” and “Wild” is a had 
combination on which to base prosperity, and French 
brandy is not a good beverage for a man who ought to 
check commission merchants’ accounts. 

Thus it happened that for the jovial owner of “Idle- 
wild” the deluge came in the latter part of the fifties ; and 
swept plantations and slaves, house, furniture and live- 
stock into the maelstrom of the commission merchant, who 
had a mind to set up for a country gentleman on his own 
account. Whether some little ark of safety bore the for- 
mer owner of these good things into quieter waters you 
will never know. Too many similar misfortunes have oc- 
curred in this world for us to pause for the purpose of 
considering one of them. 

The change in ownership of “Idlewild,” however, proved 
to he its salvation. The new proprietor had recently come 
from the North, and had been a near neighbor and warm 
personal friend of the principal general from that side in 
the civil war. And when an overwhelming force of in- 
vaders reached the state, the former ardent pro-slavery 
advocate changed suddenly into a rampant union man and 
procured a guard for the protection of his plantation home 
from the ravages of war. 

During the dark days of reconstruction, more properly 
called reannihilation, our ex-commission merchant turned 
politician; and, having artistically used his Northern birth 
to hide his short career as a slave-owner, he speedily 
amassed a comfortable fortune; and, selling his planta- 
tion, he disappeared from this novel in order to enjoy his 


WINGS AND NO EYES 125 

wealth as soon as the white people of the South resumed 
the government from which they had been ousted. 

It is generally considered to be in better taste, and like- 
wise more healthy, for a robber to leave the scene of his 
exploits before his victim has armed himself and returned 
thirsting for vengeance. 

At the close of the war the wealth of the prostrate South 
was exactly represented by a zero, and her people began 
again to build their fortunes from the very bottom. But 
after the end of a few years 5 rule of the politician her 
wealth consisted of an enormous minus quantity, and the 
inhabitants of the reconstructed States were compelled to 
fill a yawning cavity of debt before they could obtain any 
foundation on which to re-establish their fallen prosperity. 
Aud yet these same politicians, after fixing this stolen 
load of debt and adding grievous taxes from which the 
South received no benefit, have had the continual assur- 
ance to twit this section of our country with lack of prog- 
ress and culture. Progress! When a man is searching 
for bread he has small chance to win in a foot race. 

I mention these few facts in order to show how “Idle- 
wild, 55 or “Castle Montmorency, 55 as it was now called, 
came into the possession of Gwendolyn’s father. 

Almost the entire force of the company had assembled 
in the authoress 5 favorite glade the afternoon of the sec- 
ond day of the house-party to await the arrival of Dr. 
Houston and the announcement of dinner. Being so 
young, it was almost impossible for the doctor to leave his 
patients to the care of another physician for a day, and 
he had even grave doubts as to the propriety of departing 
from Judithland at five o’clock and returning the next 
morning at nine. But as he only had three patients, 
whose worst ailment was a light case of measles, I do not 
think that there was much danger of his being missed. 


126 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


Gwendolyn was seated in her favorite antique chair, 
with her chin resting upon her hand. This was the pose 
she had assumed when her latest picture was taken, and it 
had recently been much affected by her. A momentary 
silence had spread over the company, and Gwendolyn was 
thinking — dear me! how can a feeble, mortal mind pre- 
tend to understand the working of the gray matter in the' 
brain of everlasting Genius? I started to say that in 
my humble opinion she was thinking how effective this 
picture was, and was also wondering how many more mag- 
azine publishers would write to ask for it. I beg pardon 
for my temerity in trying to fathom unsearchable depths, 
and hope that I may not offend again. 

Rosamond Lattimer occupied a rustic chair, and she was 
engaged in winding yarn, which David, obedient to her 
order, was holding for her from his seat on the grass at 
her feet. I am really ashamed of Rosamond for adopting 
such a time-worn method of attracting a lover, hut if the 
characters in the story will insist on lack of originality, 
surely the novelist is not to he blamed. 

The shawl which Miss Rosy was crocheting much re- 
sembled the web which Penelope wove, for I am confident 
that she was working on a shawl of the same pattern the 
previous summer at Sweet Gum Springs. Now, I do not 
wish to appear censorious, and Rosamond may have fin- 
ished a dozen shawls during the year; but when I see a 
young woman rush off in frantic haste to get her fancy- 
work ten minutes before dinner at a summer resort, I nat- 
urally suspect that the said work receives small attention 
at home, or in the privacy of her room at the hotel. 

It is no use telling me that Penelope was so grievously 
afflicted over the loss of a husband who left her twenty 
years before to fight for another woman. No, indeed! She 
worked at her loom during the day to show her lovers how 


127 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

industrious she was; and, having so many, of course, she 
had difficulty in making up her mind, and she enjoyed 
keeping them in suspense, just as any other woman would. 
If there had been but one suitor instead of a hundred, she 
would have remained Mrs. Ulysses only during a decent 
period of mourning. 

From the hammock which Horace Layton gently swung 
by means of a stout cord, Columba was watching Rosa- 
mond and David with a dissatisfied expression on her face. 
John Cobbs and Gwendolyn’s distant cousin, Mr. Joyce, 
with his recently married wife, made up the remainder of 
the company. 

Horace Layton destroyed the momentary silence. 

“I don’t altogether agree with you, Lady Gwendolyn,” 
he said. “It seems to me that an author ought to be able 
to supply local color and incidents from his imagination 
and from reading history without the necessity for having 
it acted before him.” 

“You are entirely wrong, Mr. Layton,” the authoress 
returned, with some asperity. “That is the reason why 
Shakespeare and I have succeeded so much better than 
other people who have tried to write fiction. Shakespeare 
happened to write pretty well, because he was an actor; 
but I alone have discovered that the inspirations of genius 
only come to an author when she dresses in the costume 
of the period of which she writes.”’ 

“Well, how about Thackeray?” rejoined the attorney. 
“Don’t you think he was a genius? He never did any- 
thing of that kind.” 

“Thackeray!” exclaimed Gwendolyn, scornfully. “Well, 
Mr. Layton, is that your idea of genius? Whoever reads 
Thackeray nowadays, I should like to know. I suppose 
that when he wrote some people read him because there 
was nothing better, but that was a long time ago. Why, 


128 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


any one of my stories has had a larger sale than all of 
Thackeray’s works put together. I tried to read one of 
them once, I think it was called ‘Robert Esmond/ or 
something of that kind, and I went to sleep half a dozen 
times before I had finished forty pages. There wasn’t 
anything in it at all, as far as I went; no fighting and no 
love-making, and nothing that people want to read about. 
If he had thought about my way of having the parts 
acted before him, he might have found out his deficiency 
and have written something worth reading. Nobody ever 
went to sleep reading one of my stories. They just 
couldn’t do it, because I keep up the interest.” 

John Cobbs looked at Horace out of the corners of hi* 
eyes, and a rueful smile spread over his countenance. 

“You’re mighty right, Lady,” he said. “They just 
couldn’t do it.” 

“Oh, but tell us, Gwendolyn,” said Rosamond, “how 
you manage with your love scenes. Do you have them 
acted, too? It must be awfully interesting.” 

“I have never succeeded as well with my love scenes as 
I should like to,” the authoress replied. “I don’t think 
they come up to the standard of the rest of my work. 
When I was writing ‘The River of Blood’ I tried to have 
one of my men make love to my maid, but he didn’t know 
how, and I could not make him understand the way to 
do it. Negroes don’t seem able to comprehend love-mak- 
ing.” 

“You ought to get Mr. Layton to give you a specimen, 
Gwendolyn,” Rosamond suggested. “He’s had experi- 
ence.” 

“I have had a little, and that’s a fact,” returned Horace. 
“And I am not the only one, either. But if I were to 
make love to Lady Gwendolyn I would fall dead in love 
with her sure enough, I am more than half-way in love 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


129 


with her now, and that might interrupt the next story. It 
w^ould be much better for you to see both sides, anyway. 
Lady Gwendolyn, and I think that Miss Rosy and David 
will give us an exhibition. Now come on, Dave; don’t be 
bashful.” 

"I can’t,” David stammered, “I can’t. I never tried. I 
don’t know how.” 

But Rosamond came to his rescue. 

“You must not think, Mr. Layton,” she said, “that be- 
cause you have made love to so many girls without mean- 
ing anything that all men are like that. There are some 
sincere, honest men left in the world, even if you cannot 
realize it.” 

“Haven’t you ever been in love yourself, Gwendolyn?” 
Columba asked from the hammock. 

“Why, really, no, Columba,” Gwendolyn returned. “I 
have never felt that it would he right for me to spare the 
time. When a person has certain talents given her, no 
matter how feeble they may be, I think that she ought to 
use them to their fullest extent for the benefit of the 
world.” 

“But don’t you think, Lady Gwendolyn,” asked Horace, 
“that a real, desperate love affair would improve your 
stories?” I think it is a good scheme for an author per- 
sonally to have the experiences which he. writes about, as 
far as possible.”' 

“How silly you are, Mr. Layton,” Rosamond broke in. 
“Do you think Nero was any better author because he 
murdered his mother and burned Rome to improve his 
style? And please don’t put such notions into Gwendo- 
lyn’s head, because she might poison us all some morning 
just to realize how the villain in her story would feel after 
doing it.” 

“Well, if she did,” Horace retorted, “we ought all to be 


130 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


proud to lend our assistance in constructing a work of 
genius. Surely, Miss Rosamond, you would gladly sacri- 
fice your poor little life on the altar of immortality.” 

“You ain’t much in the habit of doing that kind of 
thing, are you, Lady?” asked John, grinning. “I ain’t 
quite ready to die yet, and if I was I couldn’t see you no 
more.” 

“Here, Mr. Cobbs, this won’t do,” 1 said Horace. “You 
must do better than that. Now, I would gladly sacrifice 
not only my life, but even my new straw hat to please Lady 
Gwendolyn.” 

“And never see me any more, Mr. Layton,” Gwendolyn 
rejoined, with a smile. “I believe I like Mr. Cobbs’ com- 
pliment the best. A man ought always to be ready to die 
for a woman if it is necessary, but it is much better for 
him to save her life and his own, too. In my stories the 
heroine always marries the hero in the last chapter.” 

John looked somewhat puzzled, for, to tell the truth, he 
did not know what a hero and a heroine were; but as it 
seemed that somebody got married it suited him exactly, 
and so he said : 

“That’s right, Lady. That’s the ticket.” 

“But that brings us back to my original proposition, 
Lady Gwendolyn,” said Horace, “that you ought to get 
married. Don’t you think so, Mrs. Joyce?” 

Mr. and Mrs. Joyce were seated together on a rattan 
settee, occasionally exchanging a few words in low tones 
and paying little attention to the conversation in progress. 
They had a sofa pillow lying between them, behind which 
a hand of each disappeared in a very suspicious manner. 

“What did you say, Mr. Layton?” asked Mrs. Joyce, 
looking up when her name was called. 

“I was merely remarking,” Horace returned, “that I 
have always been told that married people were the most 


WINGS AND NO EYES 131 

miserable creatures on the face of the earth, and I wanted 
my statement confirmed by good authority.” 

“He didn’t say anything of the kind, Mrs. Joyce,” 
Rosamond interposed. “Mr. Layton has been trying to 
fool some girl into marrying him for so many years, with- 
out succeeding, that he is real mean and envious to people 
who have.” 

“I think being married is just perfectly lovely,” said 
Mrs. Joyce, looking fondly up at her husband. “Don’t 
you, dear?” 

“Well, really, Katie,” he replied, smiling back at her, 
“I have not been married long enough yet to give an un- 
prejudiced opinion. Ask me again in a year or two and 
I will see what I think about it.” 

Gwendolyn’s aunt. Miss Zenobia Dreadnaught, as' the 
authoress had renamed her, who had come from the house, 
now approached the group. 

“Gwendolyn,” she said, “Dr. Houston telephoned to say 
that he was sorry, but he had a very sick patient, and he 
could not possibly come out this evening. And, Columba, 
he told me to ask you if you would please come to the 
telephone for a minute. He wants to ask you a question.” 

“Oh, bother!” Columba burst out. “Excuse me, Miss 
Zenobia, but won’t you please tell him that I am busy 
and can’t come? I am not going all the way to the tele- 
phone just to talk to him.” 

“He seems very anxious, Columba.” 

“I am so much obliged to you, Miss Zenobia; but really 
I can’t come.” 

“Very well,” Miss Zenobia responded. “Gwendolyn, 
dinner will be ready in a few minutes. I will tell Dr. 
Houston, Columba.” 

As the party strolled up the walk towards the house they 


132 WINGS AND NO EYES 

were met by Cupid, the small black page of the establish- 
ment. 

“Miss C'lumby,” he said, grinning — he was always grin- 
ning, that boy — “Miss Zeny say de docto’ say you mus' 
come to de 'phone jes' a minute. He boun' to talk wid 
you.” 

“Tell him I won't come, Cupid,” said Columba, sharply. 
“If he wants to ask me anything he can come out here. 
I'm not going to stand at the telephone to talk to him.” 

Horace Layton, who was walking with Gwendolyn in 
front of the others, here paused and turned around. 

“All you people,” he cried, “behold the delights of being 
an engaged man. Here is a poor young fellow who would 
lay down his life for the woman he loves, and she is not 
willing to take half a minute's trouble for him when it may 
be a matter of life and death. You just wait until you 
are married, young woman, and if he don't get even with 
you I am neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet.” 

Columba put her arm around Gwendolyn's waist and 
led the way towards the house. 

“I am not engaged to Dr. Houston, Mr. Layton,” she 
said in passing. “I have not the slightest idea of marry- 
ing him.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


133 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE BIOGRAPHY OF GENIUS. 


W HEN our friends had finished dinner they passed 
into the library, and John Cobbs, suddenly dis- 
covering that he had lost his knife, of course an 
attentive hostess could do no less than go out to her favor- 
ite glade with him to look for it. The time-honored ex- 
cuse for young couples in similar circumstances is a burn- 
ing desire for water, which somehow suddenly disappears 
when an inviting sofa under the stairs is reached. But 
even the most brazen young man can hardly ask for water 
as soon as he leaves the dinner-table. 

Miss Zenobia caught up a thread of discourse which the 
departure from the dining-room had broken. 

“I want to show you my journal, Rosamond,” she. said. 
“I know that you will be interested. You see,” she con- 
tinued, as she went to her desk and took out a large book 
in a richly tooled morocco binding, “it is volume five. I 
have been keeping it now for four years, ever since Gwen- 
dolyn commenced to write. I put down in it everything 
that Gwendolyn does and what she eats and drinks, and 
everything that she says when she is writing. I tried to 
put in everything that she said all the time, but I couldn’t 
hear it all when she was not writing, and she so often for- 
gets when I ask her to repeat it. You know it is the little 
things about great authors that people want to know. 
There never was a genius who had such a complete biog- 
raphy before. Just, by way of example, take the single 


134 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


item of food. We have been told, of course, what some 
authors were fond of and what they were not; but nobody 
ever thought before of putting down everything they ate. 
I suppose it is right that the greatest author should have 
the greatest biography, but it does seem: strange that no- 
body ever did it before. As soon as she finishes a story I 
make a summary of everything which she ate and drank 
while she was at work on it. Just think how interesting 
that will be to future generations! I have only one regret 
in my journal, and that is that I did not know how great 
she was going to be when she was a baby. Of course, if 
I had known I would have commenced it then, and you can 
imagine how much more interesting even than it is it 
would have been. It can’t be helped now, however, I am 
sorry to say, and so I have put down everything that I can 
remember about her childhood.” 

“That must be awfully interesting, Miss Zenobia,” Rosa- 
mond remarked, when the other lady paused to take breath. 
“When are you going to publish it?” 

“Why, I have had any number of offers from publish- 
ers,” Miss Zenobia replied, “but I was waiting until she 
finished ‘The Kiss of Death.’ I am going to commence to 
prepare it for publication now, and it probably will come 
out next spring. It is certain to have a most tremendous 
sale when it is published.” 

“What a pity it is,” said Horace, “that Lady Gwendo- 
lyn has not had any love affairs to be reported verbatim in 
your book.” 

“It is real bad, Mr. Layton, but it can’t be helped. It 
would add so much to the interest.” 

“Just give her a few days longer. Miss Zenobia,” Horace 
replied. “I am very much mistaken if she don’t have a 
real love story for you to write about before the week is 
over.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


135 


“Won’t you read us some of your journal, Miss Zeno- 
bia?” asked Columba, from the chair into which she had 
languidly settled when she first entered the room. 

“Why, certainly, Columba. I will read you, let me see — 
suppose we take May 26 of this year. It goes this way: 
‘Gwendolyn woke up at thirty-seven minutes past eight. 
She turned over in bed and asked what time it was. Upon 
being told, she yawned three times and turned over again. 
She got out of bed at three minutes past nine, put on her 
pink satin wrapper, and her maid brushed her hair. She 
remarked that her hair had commenced to fall out again. 
(Query: Can it be caused by the activity of her brain? 
Memorandum: To get her some hair tonic.)’ That is my 
own private memorandum, Columba. I do not mean to 
publish that, I get all these particulars from her maid, 
you understand. She has orders to tell me everything. 
‘After completing her toilet and putting on her purple 
silk gown with the golden lions and the corresponding head- 
dress, she said her prayers and came downstairs to the 
breakfast-room, where I awaited her. After saying good- 
morning to me, we sat down to breakfast. Gwendolyn was 
quiet as usual, only asking me for two more cups of coffee 
and complaining that the biscuits were burned (Memoran- 
dum: To speak to the cook about it), and I did not in- 
terrupt the meditations of genius. She ate a large saucer 
of dewberries with sugar, a bowl of oatmeal with cream 
and sugar, half a chicken, two helpings of Saratoga chips, 
four rice cakes and five biscuits with butter, and drank 
three cups of coffee and two glasses of water.’ 

“I think I should make a little explanation right there,” 
said Miss Zenobia, pausing in her reading and looking up 
at her audience. “You see, when the inspiration of writ- 
ing in costume first seized upon Gwendolyn she, of course, 
wanted to have her food correspond with her dress, and we 


136 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


got some of those old cookbooks and tried to live just like 
the people did then. But we had any amount of trouble in 
getting the things to make the dishes out of, and half the 
time we couldn’t, anyhow, and Gwendolyn didn’t like to 
give up eating the things she was fond of; and, besides, it 
didn’t agree with her; and so, when she commenced her 
second story and she found that she would have to give 
up her coffee because it had not been discovered then, she 
concluded she would have to go back to her old food. She 
says that, next to her costume, her coffee is the greatest 
aid to her wonderful brain. She always has a most excel- 
lent appetite when she is at work. Indeed, she has all the 
time, but it is better when she is working.”’ 

“Of course, that is perfectly natural, Miss Zenobia,” re- 
marked Horace, gravely. “If she did not eat anything she 
could not write at all. And so, in the ordinary course of 
things, as it takes some food for the poorest writer, it must 
take a large quantity for the greatest.” 

“Quite right, Mr. Layton. You explain it perfectly. 
But where was I reading? Oh, yes; here it is. ‘After 
breakfast Gwendolyn observed that the weather was very 
warm, and after sitting on the veranda, deep in thought, 
for about half an hour, she remarked in a dissatisfied tone 
of voice that the house would soon have to be repainted, 
and that the last painter was a swindler; and, rising, she 
went slowly down the walk to the glade, where Parthenia 
and Cupid awaited her. As there was no combat in the 
chapter on which she was at work, the men had been ex- 
cused for the morning. After some trouble in getting her 
writing-board adjusted exactly to suit her’ — you know her 
maid holds a board for her to write on — ‘Gwendolyn picked 
up her pen and was about to commence, when Cupid pre- 
sented her inkhom at her left side, instead of her right, as 
repeatedly instructed. Instantly taking the ink from him 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


137 


and placing it with her pen on the writing-hoard — note her 
care and promptitude in such matters. — she laid him across 
her lap and gave him nine strokes with the palm of her 
hand, after which she commenced her daily task.’ 

“You see,” said Miss Zenobia, interrupting herself 
again, “in those old times that Gwendolyn writes about, 
the people always used to whip their servants. She is or- 
dinarily the mildest possible kind of a person; hut when 
the inspiration of genius seizes her she is just hound to do 
as they did. She started to whip Parthenia with a switch; 
but she wouldn’t stand it, even at double wages, and so 
she compromised on Cupid, and she pays his mother extra 
for the privilege of spanking him whenever she feels like 
it, which is generally several times a day. Gwendolyn says 
that it is the best possible preparation for her work, and 
whenever she can’t seem to realize her characters she just 
gives it to Cupid, and the story comes out all right.” 

“That seems to he a most excellent incentive for 
the production of a work of genius,” the attorney said, 
with a most judicial gravity of countenance. “I wonder 
that no author has ever thought about it before.” 

“It does seem strange,” Miss Zenobia returned, placidly. 
“But Gwendolyn is continually remarking that inspira- 
tions which come to her naturally without any effort never 
seem to come to anybody else.” 

“It is rather hard on Cupid, though, isn’t it?” Horace 
asked. 

“What an absurd idea, Mr. Layton,” Miss Zenobia ex- 
claimed. “What does a few moments’ pain to a little negro 
matter, compared with the production of an immortal 
work of genius? We sacrifice everything necessary on this 
place to Gwendolyn’s work.” 

“Tell us something more about the costumes Gwendolyn 


138 


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wears, Miss Zenobia,” said Rosamond. “I wish she would 
dress up in some of them for us.” 

“She couldn’t do that, Rosamond, because she never 
puts one on again after the story it was made for is fin- 
ished. But I will gladly show you the costumes if you 
will come upstairs. As Gwendolyn and I have always 
gone abroad heretofore when she was not working on a 
story, I have never shown anyone my collection. You 
may come if you like, Mr. Layton; but I had rather show 
it to you and Mr. Elmore some other time, Columba.” 

“You see,” Miss Zenobia continued, as they went into 
the hall and up the spacious stairway, “I have preserved 
everything in any way connected with Gwendolyn ever 
since she commenced to write. I value my collection at 
more than a hundred thousand dollars now, and it may 
be worth millions before it is completed. Of course, her 
original manuscripts are priceless, and I cannot show them 
to you because they are in the fireproof vaults which we 
had built under the house, and I only refer to them myself 
to settle some controverted point. Only the other day I 
received a letter from a literary society in Massachusetts, 
which is named after Gwendolyn, asking if a certain word 
in ‘The River of Blood’ was not a misprint. It was printed 
‘had,’ but they thought it ought to be ‘have.’ But I looked 
up the manuscript, and sure enough ‘had’ was right, al- 
though Gwendolyn had changed it from ‘have.’ Of course, 
I generally keep all my treasures in the vaults, but while 
you are here, Gwendolyn and I thought we would risk the 
least valuable articles upstairs, so you could all see them. 
Will you please light the lamps, Mr. Layton?” she contin- 
ued, as she unlocked a door and they entered the museum. 
“Gentlemen generally have matches.” 

“What is in this box, Miss Zenobia ?” inquired Horace, 
after lighting the third standing lamp. He pointed to a 


WINGS AND NO EYES 139 

brass-bound mahogany box which lay on a table near him as 
he spoke. 

“Why, I had no idea that they brought that up here!” 
exclaimed Miss Zenobia, in dismay. “It is entirely too 
precious to stay out of the vault all night. I must speak 
to Tom about that. It contains Gwendolyn’s hair, Mr. 
Layton, all that she has lost during the past four years. 
J ust think of it ! Hair from the head that produced ‘The 
River of Blood.’ She has just arranged with her publish- 
ers to bring out an edition de luxe of all her works up 
to date. Each volume is to have Gwendolyn’s portrait for 
a frontispiece, encircled by one of her hairs, and with her 
autograph certificate that it is genuine. It is to be called 
‘The Own Hair Edition,’ and the publishers expect it to 
have a very large sale at a high price. Don’t you think it’s 
a splendid idea? Gwendolyn thought of it herself, and 
the publishers were wild about it.” 

“That certainly sounds like a good scheme,” Horace re- 
marked. “And the probability of its success goes to show 
how much more interest people nowadays take in literature 
than they used to. Then later on you can have an edition 
bound in pieces of her old clothes, called ‘The Own Rags 
Edition.’ And then you can get out ‘The Own Toothbrush 
Edition,’ and ‘The Own Shoestring Edition,’ and you are 
bound to ‘own’ that the possibilities are endless.” 

“They are indeed,” returned Miss Zenobia, # complacent- 
ly. “And if they all sell even as well as her autograph edi- 
tion did she will make any amount of money. I know, of 
course, that they will sell much better, because, if possible, 
Gwendolyn is more celebrated now than she was then; 
and, besides, it is such an original idea. There have been 
autograph editions before.” 

With your kind permission, my dear reader, we will 
leave Miss Zenobia to exhibit her treasures in the museum 


140 


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and bid a final farewell to this chapter. To tell you the 
honest truth, I find the lady somewhat of a bore. She 
apparently has only one subject of conversation, and while 
many people can produce at least passable music from 
a hundred strings, yet only a master with a Cremona can 
perform such a feat on one. It is, of course, a fact that 
the progress of the world is entirely due to people with 
single ideas; but this idea must be other than hero wor- 
ship. A great man might admire a dead genius, but he 
who bends the knee to a living paragon may, like Boswell, 
write a readable biography of his idol, but he can have no 
chance of doing anything to advance humanity on the 
road to wisdom or to happiness. 

But do not for one instant suspect me of jealousy, be- 
cause I tire of hearing Gwendolyn’s praises sung by her 
maternal aunt. Gwendolyn stands pre-eminent in a class 
by herself; and, although the feeble tallow candle might 
strive to emulate the coal-oil lamp, yet it can never be 
accused of envying the glory of the rising sun. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


141 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE ART OF MAKING LOVE. 

W HEN Miss Zenobia took Rosamond and Horace 
upstairs to inspect her collection, they left Co- 
lumba and David alone in the library. It is 
true that Mr. and Mrs. Joyce were there when Miss Ze- 
nobia went to the desk to get her journal, but when she 
turned around they had vanished as suddenly as the image 
on the ground glass plate disappears when you press the 
bulb of the camera. 

I wonder why it is that lovers, married or unmarried, 
have such a fondness for dark corners. Surely, discus- 
sions about the weather can be carried on as well, or bet- 
ter, in the light of day, or under the soft rays of the in- 
candescent lamps than in the obscurity of the night when 
the dew is falling. But these couples somehow never seem 
to think so, and I will confess to you, kind reader, that in 
that day, or rather those nights, now, alas! long time 
past, I thought as they do. 

We sat alone on a rustic bench, she and I, under the 
spreading branches of a great tree. The crescent moon 
peeped coyly down from among the summer clouds, and 
the drowsy hum of the cricket filled the listener with 
peace and quietude. From the depths of the shade the 
firefly flashed his welcoming signal to his mate, and the 
mockbird sang his love in joyous notes, each as pellucid 
and as pure as the pearls and the diamonds which fell 
from the lips of the maiden in the fairy tale. My love 


142 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

was young and dainty and fair, and there on that bench, 
while we gazed unseeing on the entrancing scene and lis- 
tened to the beauteous sounds we did not hear; there, I 
say, under that moon, did I tell her, in soft, low tones, of 
the conservation of energy and its bearings upon the 
nebular hypothesis. 

Do you think I did? Well, I wonder. If you wish to 
know what we talked about you can get out on a bench in 
the shadow and talk it for yourself. They all say the 
same things, but I am not going to tell you what they are. 

Well, as I remarked just now, before I meandered off 
to chatter about other lovers, David Elmore was left in 
the library with the woman whom he loved. It was the 
first time that he had been alone with Columba since she 
had broken her promise to go with him to the moonlight 
picnic. He had not stopped speaking to her when they 
met on the street, because he was too proud to show her 
how much he had been hurt, but he had carefully avoided 
her company, although it cut him to the heart to do so. 

After the first few moments he had not been at all angry 
with Columba. If you really love a woman with your 
whole heart and soul, so that your love for her has entirely 
engulfed any love which you may have for yourself, you 
cannot possibly be angry with her for any length of time. 
David was very much hurt, it is true ; but he did not think 
of blaming Columba for her rudeness. He believed that 
she was engaged to Dr. Houston, and he thought it ex- 
tremely kind in her to nip his hopes in the bud, instead of 
allowing them to blossom with a fair prospect of producing 
fruit. 

He now opened the conversation by blushing furiously, 
and for several minutes nothing else was said. This re- 
mark, however, was lost on Columba, because she was 
looking at the floor, and not at David. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


143 


It is a serious affliction for a man to possess such a thin 
skin. A woman may blush and be admired for it, but for 
a man to make his way through the world with any kind 
of ease and pleasure he should have an epidermis as thick 
as the hide of a rhinoceros. 

Columba first fractured the silence in the library. 

“I haven’t seen you for such a long time, David,” she 
said. “Are you so much in love with Rosamond that you 
haven’t any time to see your other friends?” 

“Why, really, Miss Columba, I — I’m not in love with 
Miss Rosamond.” 

“It’s no use telling me that, David, because I know bet- 
ter. Everybody says so, and Rosamond thinks so, too, and 
she ought to know, because she has had so much expe- 
rience.” 

“I’m not, though; I’m not. I think Miss Rosy is a 
charming nice girl, but I am not at all in love with her.” 

“If you are not in love with her, why is it that you 
never go to see any other girls ? You haven’t been to see 
me for six weeks.” 

“That is only because you don’t want to see me, Miss 
Columba.” 

“I don’t see why you should say that. I never told 
you so.” 

“If you wanted me to come to your house you wouldn’t 
treat me so rudely.” 

“Why, I never was rude to you in my whole life, David. 
I do not understand. What do you mean?” 

“You know T very well that you broke your engagement 
to go with me to the moonlight picnic,” said David, de- 
terminedly. “You promised to go with me, and you went 
off with Jim Houston.” 

“I didn’t, David. I didn’t. Dr. Houston asked me 
more than a week before you did.” 


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WINGS ANB NO EYES 


“He could hardly have done that, because I asked you to 
go only a few minutes after they decided to have the pic- 
nic.” 

“Well, anyway, I had an engagement with him to go 
somewhere else that evening, and we just changed it to 
the picnic.” 

“But you promised to go with me.”’ 

“I didn’t, David; I didn’t. You never asked me to go, 
anyhow. I cannot see where you got such an idea.” 

Well, David Elmore was, and is yet, I hope, a perfect 
gentleman. He could not tell a young lady that she was 
saying the thing which is not, although he knew that she 
was ; and, besides, it had required all the courage which he 
could command for him to say as much as he had. And, 
although the point-blank denial of a fact is only equal to 
about one-sixteenth part of an apology, yet David, being 
in love, was glad to accept even such a poor excuse as this 
for ending his variance from his sweetheart. 

So David and Columba began to talk about indifferent 
subjects in a desultory fashion; and, as their conversation 
was much like other people’s and not of any absorbing in- 
terest to us, we will leave them, if you please, and go to see 
if we cannot eavesdrop for awhile in the vicinity of the 
“greatest novelist of any age” and the proprietor of Cobbs’ 
bookstore. 

Herein lies the great advantage which stories possess 
over their counterparts in real life. When our friends 
bore us by their conversation we cannot tell them to shut 
up and go home, because you and I, reader, are gentlefolk, 
and we do not do such things. But if my characters do 
not please me I toss the marionettes into their box and 
take out some more which suit me better. 

Similarly, fair maiden, when my prosing wearies you, 
if you happen to be alone, you frown, close the book with 


WINGS AND NO EYES 145 

a bang, and throw it across the room with the intention 
that it shall reach the corner and lie there in innocuous 
desuetude. But as a woman’s throws are even more per- 
plexing than a baseball pitcher’s curves, it very naturally 
comes into contact with a handsome cut-glass vase filled 
with long-stemmed American Beauty roses which your 
fiance has just sent you that very morning. And as these 
objects meet, of course there is a crash. But when Edgar 
comes in the evening, do you tell him that you broke it 
because you were angry with a poor author? Bless your 
dear little soul, no! You tell him that it broke when you 
were washing it, and how you cried over it, and will he 
ever forgive you ; and you sob a little on his manly bosom, 
and he is enchanted and touched, and he sends you an- 
other twice as large the very next day. 

Oh, I know you, like a book, young woman; or, rather, 
like a girl who is not in a book. 

Gwendolyn and John wandered off to the spot where 
they had waited for dinner, and she established herself in 
the hammock. J ohn looked with some apprehension at the 
supporting cords, which groaned and creaked under their 
weight of genius; but, seeing that they stoutly held their 
own, he drew up a chair and seated himself by her side. 

Gwendolyn began to talk descriptions out of her novels. 

“ Behold yon perambulating moon,” she said. “How 
gruesome is its ghastly face, shining with malevolent light 
like the face of a dead man. How many scenes of blood 
and carnage has it witnessed! How many murdered 
corpses with ghastly, upturned faces have lain under its 
baleful glare, corpse gazing upon corpse, until the mute 
horror of the scene has wrung shriek after shriek from the 
bated breath of the silent listener.” 

John was considerably puzzled, but he expected peculiar- 
ities, and he thought of the two hundred thousand dollars. 


146 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“That’s so/’ he said, when Gwendolyn paused to take 
breath. “I say, Lady, ain’t you ever thought about get- 
ting married ?” 

Gwendolyn’s soul slowly ascended from the profound 
depths to which her eloquence had carried her. 

“Have I ever thought about getting married, Mr. 
Cobbs?” she asked. “Why, of course I have. In my very 
last story, ‘The Kiss of Death/ Hubert, the forester, mar- 
ries the Countess Lucretia in the last chapter, after having 
slain all her other lovers. It turned out, of course, that 
he was the Duke of Beauseant, who had been deprived of 
his rightful inheritance by one of the men he killed. What 
a splendid idea,” she continued, with a sudden burst of 
enthusiasm. “It just came to me while I was talking. 
That is the way my inspirations always come. Isn’t it 
wonderful? In my very next story I will make the 
hero mortally wound all the unsuccessful suitors and then 
have a priest in and marry the heroine while they are all 
dying around and looking on in envy. It’s the finest 
climax for a story that ever was, and it will make it sell 
like wildfire. It sustains the interest to the very last chap- 
ter. Have you got a pencil and paper, Mr. Cobbs? I must 
put it down right here now in the moonlight.” 

In searching his pockets, John discovered a pencil, but 
paper he had none. 

“I ain’t got no paper, Lady,” he said. “But I reckon it 
will keep till morning, won’t it?” 

“How can you say such a thing, Mr. Cobbs?” returned 
the fair authoress reproachfully, rising from the hammock 
as she spoke. “Don’t you know that the inspirations of 
genius never come twice, just as lightning never strikes 
twice in the same place ? I must go up to the house to put 
it down at once.” 

Now, this did not suit John Cobbs at all, because he had 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


147 


something to say which he was determined not to put off 
if he could help it; and so, as inspirations were the fash- 
ion, he had one of his own. 

“Here, you can write it on my cuff, Lady,” he said, tak- 
ing off that article and removing the buttons. “That’ll do 
as well as anything, I reckon.” 

“That is a brilliant idea,” replied Gwendolyn, as she 
reseated herself, spread the cuff on her knee and began to 
scribble. “It will make a very valuable addition to my 
collection, and will show future generations how careful I 
have always been to preserve my inspirations at once.” 

“But, I say, Lady,” said John, returning to the charge 
after Gwendolyn had finished writing, “you ain’t answered 
my question. Ain’t you ever thought about getting mar- 
ried yourself?” 

“Why, I don’t know that I have, much. Of course, a 
woman doesn’t think about marrying until somebody asks 
her.” 

“But suppose there was a good-looking fellow in a good 
line of business that wanted to marry you. What would 
you say?” 

“I couldn’t very well tell without knowing who the 
man is.” 

“Why, it’s me myself, Lady, of course. I want you to 
marry me.” 

Gwendolyn began to laugh. 

“Well, Mr. Cobbs,” she said; “is that your idea of the 
way to make love to a girl? I am afraid that you cannot 
expect to have much success, unless you learn to do it 
better than that.” 

“What’s the matter with it?” John returned, somewhat 
sulkily. “Ain’t I asked you right out? What do you 
want a fellow to do?” 

“Why, every woman, of course, expects more romance 


148 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


in a proposal than that, and if you had read my novels 
more carefully you would have found that out. I can 
teach you how to make love, if you like, so that you can 
ask the next girl in a better fashion.” 

John was inclined to rebel at first, because he had a 
natural objection to being laughed at, and he did not like 
anybody to offer to instruct him, just as. if he didn’t know 
everything that was worth knowing. But he thought of 
the house and the surrounding plantation, and the spirit 
of insubordination died within him. 

“I don’t want to marry nobody but you, Lady,” he re- 
joined; “but I’ll do what you say.” 

“Well, then, get down on your knees and take hold of 
my hand,” said Gwendolyn, smiling, as she raised herself 
to a sitting position in the hammock. 

John looked ruefully down at the damp ground and 
then at his new pair of light gray trousers. 

“Grass mighty wet,” he suggested. 

Gwendolyn rose to her feet at once. 

“I am afraid that you will not do at all, Mr. Cobbs,” 
she said, scornfully. “A man who would not gladly sacri- 
fice his clothes to his love is not fit to make a hero out of.” 

Whereupon she started to walk away towards the house. 

“Oh, come back, Lady,” he cried, entreatingly. “Come 
back. I’ll do what you say.”' 

“You promise to get down on your knees on the ground, 
do you?” 

“All right. I’ll put my handkerchief down. That’ll 
keep my pants clean, I reckon.” 

“No, that will not do at all. You must kneel on the 
bare ground.” 

“All right, Lady; I’ll do it. Just come back.” 

Gwendolyn returned slowly and seated herself in a chair. 
To tell the truth, she had no desire to break off the con- 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


149 


versation, if she could succeed in forming her suitor ac- 
cording to her ideals. The scene would fit so well into her 
next story. In addition to this, although John was not as 
handsome as she could have wished and did not express 
his love as she would have expected, yet he was a man and 
it was her first proposal. She did not mind his precip- 
itancy in asking such a question after an acquaintance of 
only two days. This, indeed, was the only point about 
him of which she fully approved, because love at first sight 
was a cardinal principle in her philosophy. 

John sank slowly upon his knees by the side of Gwen- 
dolyn’s chair, looking sadly down at the wet grass as he 
did so. 

“You haven’t taken my hand,” said Gwendolyn, some- 
what sharply. 

“Excuse me, Lady,” he returned, seizing the hand which 
lay on the chair-arm conveniently near him. “I forgot. 
What do I do next?” 

“Now repeat after me: Gwendolyn, my soul’s adored, 
I love you more than ever mortal loved before. The in- 
stant that I first beheld your fairy form, my love gushed 
forth like water from the living rock. My love for thee is 
deeper fa> than ocean caves’ profoundest gloom, and bums 
my soul with a fiery fire compared to which the desert sun 
at noonday is but a tallow dip. For you would I sacrifice 
my ancestral halls, mine honored name, dearer to me than 
life, my princely fortune, and even life itself. Name but 
your enemies, and I will bring their caitiff corpses and 
strew them at your feet. If you will be mine my ambient 
heart shall bound above the clouds, but if you deny my 
suit, on some forsaken isle will I prison me; and, foodless 
there, I will pine and die, and thoughts of thee shall 
cradle my departing spirit.” 

“Gewhillikins, Lady,” John exclaimed, when the au- 


150 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


thoress paused, “I can’t remember all that, dashed if I 
can. Oh, I beg your pardon, but it slipped out accidental.” 

“ Why, that’s nothing to remember, Mr. Cobbs. If you 
listened carefully you can surely repeat it.” 

“I don’t know what the first words was, Lady; let alone 
the whole biz. How did you start her off?” 

“Why, it commences ‘Gwendolyn, my soul’s adored.’ 
Surely you ought to be able to remember that. Come on 
and try now. ‘Gwendolyn, my soul’s adored.’ ” 

After many repetitions and much prompting, John 
finally managed to repeat, a few words a,t a time, the above 
supposedly love-sick rhapsody, which indeed was taken 
verbatim from “The Kiss of Death.” 

The speech accomplished to its very last word, he heaved 
a great sigh of relief. 

“Now it’s done, Lady,” he continued, eagerly, “what 
do you say?” 

“I didn’t say I was to say anything, Mr. Cobbs. I 
taught you that so you could propose to the next girl in 
a better fashion. Let go of my hand, please.” 

“Not much I won’t until you say you’ll marry me. I’ve 
done everything you asked and spoilt my pants, too. Come 
on now, Lady. You know you want to.” 

“This is perfectly absurd, Mr. Cobbs. I have not the 
slightest intention of marrying you or anybody else. I 
never expect to marry.” 

“ Oh, come off, Lady. That’s nonsense. Everybody gets 
married. And why won’t you marry me? You can’t do 
no better.” 

“Why, you have not even saved my life. I would never 
think of marrying a man who had not saved my life at 
least once.” 

This statement so astounded our persistent suitor that 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


151 


he dropped the hand of his inamorata and sank back upon 
the grass, even oblivious of his pet trousers. 

“Save your life, Lady!” he exclaimed. “How do you 
mean?” 

“Why, you know very well that the hero always rescues 
the heroine from terrible danger at least a dozen times 
before she marries him, and you have never saved my life 
even once.” 

“But there ain’t nothing to save you from.” 

“That is not my fault,” returned Gwendolyn, rising as 
she spoke. “Come into the house, Mr. Cobbs. It is get- 
ting too damp for me out here. After you have saved my 
life at least once, you can ask me again, and if you do it 
better than you did this time I may — well, I don’t know.” 

When Gwendolyn and John entered the library, to which 
the museum inspectors had also returned, Horace Layton 
quickly noticed the wet spots on the knees of John’s 
trousers. 

“Hello, Mr. Cobbs,” he cried, making a bull’s-eye shot 
without the remotest idea that his shaft of ridicule had 
even come near the target. “Been kneeling to Gwendo- 
lyn, have you? Don’t you know, Man, that that method 
of proposing has entirely gone out of fashion? She will 
only laugh at you if you do it that way.” 

John muttered something about having slipped down on 
the wet grass and went upstairs to change his trousers and 
recover his equanimity. Although he had a most excellent 
opinion of his own worth, yet he speedily became angry if 
anyone attempted to make fun of him. It seemed to show 
that the person did not possess a proper appreciation of 
his merits; and, while it did not reduce his self-esteem in 
the slightest degree, nevertheless he hated the man who 
laughed at him. 


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CHAPTER XVI. 

A CATASTROPHE. 

J OHN had not the faintest idea of desisting from his 
attempt to win the hand and fortune of the authoress 
and heiress. Although he may not have known how 
to make love to a woman in the proper manner, yet he 
thoroughly understood that there are very few things in 
this world that a man cannot obtain, if he is fully deter- 
mined to have them. Besides, he had a firm conviction 
that Gwendolyn was longing to say yes, and only wanted 
the proper amount of urging, so that it would not appear 
that she had come down too easily. 

He thought that a man ought to humor a woman’s 
whims before marriage — after that event, of course, it 
would be different — and, therefore, he set his wits to work 
to devise a plan by which he could appear to rescue Gwen- 
dolyn from some great danger. 

After he retired to his room he thought and thought, 
but nothing appeared to be feasible. His invention was 
entirely at fault. He wished to ask Horace Layton’s ad- 
vice, because, although he knew that he could do anything 
better than anybody else, yet the conception of a, scheme 
of this kind was more in the line of a lawyer than in that 
of a straightforward man of business. But he had not 
entirely forgiven Horace for the failure of his knightly 
escapade, and he was ashamed to ask his assistance; al- 
though, from his present knowledge of Gwendolyn, he had 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


153 


begun to realize that possibly Horace’s previous directions 
had not been so very unsound, although they had resulted 
so disastrously. 

John finally went to bed with his problem still unsolved. 
He soon fell asleep, but the events of the evening and his 
nebulous project disturbed his rest, and a short time after 
he found himself sitting up in bed, the pistol from under 
his pillow in his hand, with a firm conviction that there 
was a burglar in the room. As soon as his senses returned, 
however, the moon, which was peeping through his open 
windows, informed him that he was mistaken, and he lay 
down and slept once more. 

In thinking about his dream while dressing the next 
morning a brilliant idea came to him, which he at once 
resolved to put into execution. He determined to arrange 
an attempt to burglarize the house, and he expected to gain 
honor and renown by frustrating this attempt. 

Although this might not exactly be considered as saving 
Gwendolyn’s life, it would nevertheless prove to her what 
a brave man he was and how willing and anxious to en- 
counter any danger for her sake, and it was really the 
only scheme which he was able to originate. 

John was so full of his plan that he said scarcely any- 
thing at the breakfast-table. His distraction was un- 
noticed, however, because Miss Zenobia alone was fully 
competent to sustain the entire burden of the conversation, 
and, with the able assistants which she had on this occa- 
sion, the important question was not how a man could keep 
silent without remark, but how he could insert a small 
word edgeways in some crack in the discourse. 

On a plea of very pressing business John had, before 
breakfast, requested a conveyance to town, and as soon as 
the|meal was concluded he departed for Judithland in the 
Montmorency carriage, with the crest on the panels, and 


154 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


with a memorandum of numerous little commissions for 
the ladies in his pocket. 

He alighted at his store in the city; and, after attending 
to his commissions, like a man of business that he was, 
and procuring a five-pound box of ByloFs candies for his 
lady-love and a package of magazines for the household in 
general, he passed around to Elm street to transact the 
business which had brought him to town. 

This took him to the shoe shop of “Jonh Jonhsin,” 
where, as usual, that sable-hued gentleman was comfort- 
ably located in a rush-bottomed chair on the front gallery. 
John Cobbs had become well acquainted with this negro 
during his frequent visits to the blind tiger’s lair since he 
located in Judithland. 

After going through the usual ceremony and exchanging 
his dollar for a bottle full of whisky, he paused on the gal- 
lery outside to obtain the promise of the colored individ- 
ual’s co-operation in the plan which he had in view. 

This he found to be far from easy. Although Johnson 
was a habitua] violator of the prohibition laws, yet it was 
one thing to commit a misdemeanor, of which many white 
people in the county approved and also assisted in, and 
quite a different matter to be engaged in a felony, with a 
good chance of being shot into the bargain. He disliked 
exceedingly to refuse the request of one of his best cus- 
tomers, and he also wished to earn the five dollars of- 
fered, but this was a thing which he could not do. 

It was in vain that John Cobbs assured him that it was 
only a joke which he wished to play on the ladies, and 
promised to increase the money to be paid. The man 
thought it would be as unpleasant to be shot in fun as in 
earnest, and steadfastly refused. Finally, however, when 
John offered to inform every person in the house, 'except 


155 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

his hostess, of the fictitious nature of the assault, and also 
to double the money, he gave a reluctant consent. 

Our bookseller at this time was not awai;e of the two 
large mastiffs which one of the colored men servants at 
Castle Montmorency loosed every evening after the family 
had retired and chained again in the early morning, and 
he assured his dark-skinned ally that no dogs were kept. 
He arranged that his burglar should enter the house 
through a certain window in one of the parlors, under 
which a flower-bed would plainly show his tracks, and he 
furnished the negro with a small saw to cut out some 
slats in the outside blinds. The window John agreed to 
unfasten. 

After appointing the hour of one o’clock that night for 
the attempt, which, as the family retired about twelve, he 
thought would be sufficiently late, the courageous lover 
returned to the carriage, well pleased with the progress of 
his two-man-power conspiracy. 

Dr. Houston came out to the house-party that evening; 
and, wonderful to relate, he arrived in time for dinner, in 
spite of the urgent demands of his patients. He was 
somewhat dissatisfied when he found that Columba. and 
David were again on good terms; as, after the moonlight 
picnic, he believed from David’s actions that she had 
finally dismissed him. To be sure, he had little fear of 
David as a rival ; although he realized that he was a hand- 
some young fellow, because in company he always saw 
David sit in silence or only answer when spoken to; and 
of course he was certain that a woman would not marry a 
man who could not say boo to a goose. He did not know 
that David shone more brightly when tete-a-tete with a 
girl. 

After dinner the doctor tried to persuade Columba to 
wander off among the trees with him, under a pretence 


156 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


of having something important to tell her; hut she obsti- 
nately refused to leave the side of their hostess; and, as 
Gwendolyn also had no desire for private conversation that 
evening, the entire party established themselves on the 
front veranda, where they remained until they broke up 
for the night. 

Columba did not volunteer a single remark to Dr. Hous- 
ton during the evening, and indeed scarcely answered 
when he spoke to her. That gentleman, however, was 
used to her little ways, and bore her slights with the most 
perfect equanimity. 

The only people in the world to whom she was at any 
time intentionally rude were the two men who loved her. 
She did occasionally say sharp things to other people, but 
this was caused by her chronic belief that she was unwell, 
and she was always sorry for it afterwards, and sometimes 
she tried to smooth it over if it was possible. 

But, in general, she seized an opportunity to affront 
either of her lovers with avidity, and no one could possi- 
bly tell that the faintest trace of remorse for this conduct 
ever entered her bosom. 

To Dr. Houston, however, she was frequently kind, 
going out with him when invited and requesting little 
favors from him; and, although she always vowed and 
declared that she never intended to marry him, yet her 
conduct quite often was such as to give a sanguine man 
every reason for asking her again. 

On the other hand, as I have mentioned before, she 
very seldom treated David with ordinary politeness, and 
the moonlight picnic of unpleasant memory was the only 
occasion when she had consented to go anywhere with 
him for more than a year past, 

John did not desire to be alone with Gwendolyn, either, 
as he wished to accomplish his plot before pressing his 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


157 


suit to the authoress. His only desire was to get the party 
off to bed as soon as possible, and he made several remarks 
with this object in view, which resulted in a good deal of 
laughter at his expense. 

Miss Zenobia, who generally suggested retiring at about 
twelve o’clock, had gone to her room with a headache, 
and Horace Layton and Dr. Houston had been amusing 
the ladies with ghost stories, of which each had a consider- 
able supply. Of course, these were very interesting, but 
such stories have a natural tendency to make girls prefer 
company to the solitude of their own apartments, and it 
was quite one o’clock before they finally separated. 

Gwendolyn had been unusually silent during the latter 
part of the evening. Ghost stories were not in her line. 
She understood how to make ghosts in her fiction ex- 
tremely well, but after her facile pen had separated the 
spirit from its tenement of clay, she took much more in- 
terest in the corpse than in the disembodied shade. Be- 
sides, her fancies were too valuable to be thrown away. 
When you can obtain a dollar a word for the product of 
your imagination, you cannot afford to bestow a few thou- 
sand words, even to amuse your guests. 

John was exceedingly impatient, and he bounced up and 
down in his chair and interrupted the tales of the appari- 
tions until he really made himself a nuisance. If he had 
only realized it, this was t'he worst course for him to pur- 
sue; because when young men commence to relate such 
stories they naturally desire to dispose of all their stock, 
and the more frequent the interruptions the longer it 
takes. 

About a quarter to one our fidgety plotter walked down 
to the gate of the home inclosure, under a pretence of re- 
quiring exercise, but with the hope that he might be able 
to see his negro assistant and instruct him to delay his 


158 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


enterprise. But from the gate no darky was visible in 
the moonlight; and, after watching for some ten minutes, 
John suddenly turned and hurried back, under the stim- 
ulus of the fear that someone else might close the parlor 
windows. 

He found the party just breaking up; and, after he had 
volunteered to shut these windows, in order to leave one 
unfastened, he could only sit in his room and hope that 
his man would have sense enough to wait a sufficient time 
to allow the household to fall asleep. 

For when he promised to tell the other men about his 
project John did not intend to keep his word. He thought 
they probably would not approve of a joke of this kind; 
and, anyway, he was sure they would tell Gwendolyn about 
his scheme in order to laugh at him. And now that one 
o’clock had come and gone, with the men still awake, he 
was afraid that they might hear his burglar, deprive him 
of, or at any rate share with him, the honor of protecting 
the hostess, and very possibly change a comedy into a 
tragedy. 

As the hands of his watch went slowly round, however, 
he realized that his anxiety was groundless. His last in- 
struction to Johnson had been to come under his window 
before making the attempt to enter, so that he could be 
prepared to repel the invader; but, looking out into the 
moonlight, he only saw the park silent and deserted. 

When two o’clock arrived John began to get impatient. 
He never was the most lamblike of men, and this dashed 
nigger had now kept him waiting for more than an hour. 
He fumed internally, but there was no one on whom he 
could vent his rage. 

At about half-past two, as there was still no appearance 
of his assistant, he resolved to execute his design alone; 
and, removing his shoes, he cautiously opened the door of 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


159 


his room and listened. The house was silent as a church 
on Monday. He thought he would steal downstairs, open 
the parlor window, make a few tracks in the flower-bed 
outside, and then clamber back, fire his pistol, and claim 
the glory of a combat with a marauder of the night. 

The enterprise seemed a simple one, easily to be exe- 
cuted, and promised much renown from a slight expendi- 
ture of time and energy. It is true that the house was 
entirely unlighted, but it was built by a simple plan, and 
the passages and stairs were amply wide. 

John Cobbs moved softly, stealthily, scarcely allowing 
himself to breathe, through the blackness of darkness to- 
wards his destination. After much groping and several 
narrow escapes from stumbling over chairs, he attained 
the head of the stairs, which he commenced to descend 
with more confidence, inwardly congratulating himself 
that his troubles were at an end. But he did not under- 
stand that the deity who is worshipped in the Temple of 
Fortune is a woman. 

On the fourth step his stockinged foot came in contact 
with an object which at first felt like a sofa pillow, but 
which instantly resolved itself into a circular saw, and 
every member of the household was awakened by a scream 
of rage and pain, followed almost instantly by a pistol- 
shot and the sound of some heavy body falling down the 
front stairs. 

The male guests soon appeared with a light, armed as 
circumstances would permit, and in a very pronounced 
state of deshabille , and they found John Cobbs just com- 
ing to his senses at the foot of the stairs, while Miss 
Zenobia’s darling cat, with a terror-stricken expression on 
its countenance, was frantically endeavoring to discover 
an avenue of escape from the house. 

After lifting their prostrate friend upon a lounge in 


160 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


the hall, staunching the blood from a slight cut, and 
ascertaining that his injuries were not serious, the innate 
modesty of my characters prevailed over their curiosity, 
and they retired in haste to their rooms to obtain clothing 
better suited to welcome the ladies, whom they momen- 
tarily expected to arrive upon the scene. 

But they did not know the dear creatures. 

When the cat’s unearthly yell first awakened them from 
their innocent slumbers, each young woman covered up 
her head like an ostrich, with a trembling fear that every 
ghost from the depth of the Red Sea was in her room, will- 
ing, and even anxious, to devour her. And in this posture 
they remained until the repeated assurances of the various 
gentlemen through the doors of their rooms, that the dan- 
ger was passed, finally induced them to come downstairs. 
They came together for better protection, and arrived 
when Dr. Houston was just finishing the bandage on 
John’s sprained ankle after attending to the cut on his 
head, it having been decided that he could comfortably 
spend the hours until morning on the lounge. 

Please notice that I am every bit as proper as the 
gifted authoress of a certain popular novel, w T ho takes so 
much pains to convince you that a brave man and a fair 
woman were conventionally attired when he rescues her in 
the small hours of the morning, that she entirely destroys 
the terror of her crazy woman’s attack by informing the 
reader of it many pages in advance. This may be good 
form, but is not art. Far better would it have been for 
the peril to have come unheralded, and for the authoress 
to allow her characters to preserve their own propriety, 
or even temporarily to forego it, as they would have done 
had they been real and life in danger. 

But, poor me, I have neither the desire nor the ability 
to harrow my gentle readers’ feelings; and, as there never 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


161 


was any danger except to John Cobbs and the cat, there 
is no reason why my puppets should not be properly 
dressed when they come on the stage. 

John had been partially stunned by his fall; and, after 
he came to his senses, he obstinately refused to answer 
questions in regard to his accident, which caused Dr. 
Houston to think him worse hurt than he was. But, 
after the doctor had given him a strong stimulant out of 
his traveling medicine-chest, from which he never parted, 
John began sulkily to defend himself. 

“But I don’t exactly understand,” Horace was saying, 
when Gwendolyn and the other ladies reached the foot of 
the stairs. “Did you say you saw the burglar yourself?” 

“I told you I did. I ain’t going to keep telling you 
all night. I was woke up by a noise and I grabbed my 
gun and jumped to the window, and I saw a big nigger 
just getting in down here, and I run to the stairs to head 
him off, and I stepped on that dashed cat and pitched all 
the way to t'he bottom, and the row I made must have 
scared the nigger off.” 

“But all the windows in both parlors are down and 
the shutters closed,” objected Horace, who had been in- 
vestigating while Dr. Houston was attending to his pa- 
tient. 

“He must have shut them before he got out,” returned 
John, shortly. “I saw him come in, anyway.” 

“He couldn’t have shut them before he got out,” chimed 
in Dr. Houston, as he straightened himself up, after com- 
pleting his bandage. “And the parlor windows are too 
high to be shut from the ground, even if the man wasn’t 
scared to death by the racket you made.” 

John had no answers ready for arguments, so he fell 
back on the point-blank statement: 

“I saw him, anyway.” 


162 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


Like all women, Gwendolyn was, of course, ready to 
believe in robbers on the slightest provocation, but as she 
saw that the other men were so plainly incredulous the 
maidenly desire to tease her lover overcame even her faith 
in burglars. 

“Why, Mr. Cobbs,” she said, “both the dogs are on the 
front gallery. I hear them out there now. Surely they 
would have caught any man who tried to get into the 
house.” 

“I tell you I saw him, Lady,” said John, angrily. “I 
saw him as plain as I see you now.” 

David Elmore had been upstairs to John’s room, and 
here he returned with a couple of pillows. 

“Look here, Mr. Cobbs,” he said, “don’t you go to bed 
at night? Your bed is still made up.” 

“And, bless my boots,” broke in Horace, laughing. 
“Funny we didn’t notice it before. Say, man, are you in 
the habit of dressing yourself all over and putting on your 
collar and cravat before you rescue fair damsels from 
burglars? Of course, it is much more proper io be cor- 
rectly attired when you come into the presence of ladies, 
but if the robbers had carried off your lady-love while you 
were making your toilet you might just as well have 
stayed in your room.” 

This sally caused a general laugh, and John turned his 
face to the wall and obstinately refused to utter another 
word. 

Now, Mrs. Joyce, having been recently married, nat- 
urally was interested in other lovers, and as her instinct 
had previously informed her that John was a suitor for 
Gwendolyn’s hand, she began, at once to defend him as 
well as she was able. 

“Never mind, Mr. Cobbs,” she said, soothingly. “These 


WINGS AND NO EYES 163 

people will laugh at anything. You drove the robber off 
anyhow, if you didn’t catch him.” 

“This is a most peculiar case,” said Horace. “We need 
the ingenuity of a Sherlock Holmes to solve it. I think 
Mr. Cobbs must have made up his bed after he dressed, 
just like the burglar shut the window and shutters before 
he got out, for the purpose of throwing the detectives off 
the scent. Or, possibly, the innate neatness of his nature 
would not allow him to leave his bedclothes mussed up 
when he left the room, and the amiable burglar was 
afraid that we might catch cold if he left the window 
open.” 

“What nonsense you do talk,” said Rosamond. “It is 
simple enough. You remember how sleepy Mr. Cobbs was 
last night, don’t you? Well, he must have gone to sleep 
in his chair and never gone to bed at all.” 

“And then he was all ready to fight the burglar when 
he came?” Mrs. Joyce continued. 

“Anyhow, he drove him away while you other gentle- 
men were asleep,” Columba added. 

“My dear young ladies,” Horace responded, “in me you 
see before you a second edition of the great detective, and 
with the true instinct of genius I have kept the final reve- 
lation until the last chapter. But now listen. There was 
no burglar!” 

“How do you know, Mr. Layton?” Rosamond asked, 
quickly. “You were asleep when he came.” 

“That is entirely true, Miss Rosy. I was slumbering 
peacefully when he didn’t come. But now mark my great 
detective skill. I made an investigation while the doctor 
was tending his interesting patient. Every window in 
both parlors, except one, is fastened on the inside. No 
burglar could have fastened them had he been ever so 
much inclined. Now, right under the unfastened window 


164 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


a newly-cultivated flower-bed reposes peacefully in the 
moonlight. Unless the burglar possessed wings, which 
the great majority of burglars do not, he must have left 
tracks on this bed, even if he carried off the ladder with 
which he ascended. But, mark! There are no tracks! 
And, furthermore, on the walk near by there lies a great 
dog, who growled at me when I opened the window, and 
with wonderful presence of mind I refrained from pur- 
suing my investigations any farther. I did not desire to 
tempt him to break his fast so early, because it is always 
unwholesome for people to eat at this time of the morn- 
ing. I was sure I would not agree with him, anyhow, for 
you know I make my living by opposing people, and Miss 
Eosamond is continually informing me how disagreeable 
I am. And, taking all these things into consideration, it 
did not seem to me that it would be a proper return for 
Lady Gwendolyn’s kindness if I gave her pet dog indiges- 
tion.” 

“Don’t you think the dog might have swallowed the 
burglar, tracks and all?” asked Mr. Joyce. 

“Possibly he did,” Horace returned. “He’s big enough. 
But my discoveries stopped before I reached his interior.” 

“The whole matter is easy enough to explain,” said Dr. 
Houston, positively. “Mr. Cobbs went to sleep in his 
chair and dreamed about a burglar and fell downstairs 
before he woke up. It frequently happens that people 
who go to sleep in constrained positions have bad dreams.” 

“And, anyway, Lady Gwendolyn,” Horace added, “you 
have the satisfaction of knowing that Mr. Cobbs is so will- 
ing to shed his heart’s blood for your protection that he 
even fights for you in his sleep.” 

Miss Zenobia came downstairs during the progress of 
this conversation and David imparted the main facts of 
the accident to her in an undertone. She now interposed : 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


165 


“ Young people,” she said, “it is time you were all back 
in bed. I cannot have my girls kept up all night. Can’t 
you get Mr. Cobbs upstairs, Dr. Houston?” 

“I think that he is best left here until morning, Miss 
Zenobia. I have not been able to discover any internal 
injuries as yet, but that contusion on the cranium seems 
to have caused a slightly comatose condition. I will come 
down every hour or two and attend to his bandages and 
see how he is. I really do not think that he is seriously 
hurt, though.” 

If Dr. Houston had been able to examine the interior 
of John Cobbs’ “cranium” during the progress of the 
above conversation in the same manner that the novelist 
can, he would have been more than ever of the opinion 
that his patient was not seriously hurt. 

It required all his will-power for John to restrain him , 
self from giving the men a good “cussing out,” and only 
the certainty that such a course would forever destroy his 
chances of obtaining Gwendolyn’s fortune, and also the 
knowledge that he was in no condition for a rough-and- 
tumble combat, prevented him from doing so. But as 
long as he could not say what he wished he did not say 
anything after his first attempt at defense, and his sulky 
silence caused the doctor to fear that he was more se- 
verely injured than he was. 

After the ladies retired upstairs Dr. Houston gave his 
patient an opiate; which, to me, does not seem to be in- 
dicated by his supposed condition, but which so many 
doctors are fond of administering on the slightest provo- 
cation, and soon his anger, his mortification and his hopes 
passed away into the oblivion of unconsciousness. 


166 


[WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER XYII. 

A DINNER CONVERSATION. 

J OHN came to his senses about twelve o’clock; and, 
finding himself on the lounge in the lower hall, with 
Miss Zenobia placidly reading near him, it was some 
minutes before he could remember the circumstances 
which had left him there. But when the recollection of 
his unfortunate adventure came to the surface, his anger 
at the people who laughed at him also arose, and he started 
up from his couch with the intention of leaving instantly 
for town. Pain in his injured ankle, however, and the 
dizzy after effects of morphine soon convinced him that 
this was impossible without assistance, and he sank help- 
lessly back again. 

Miss Zenobia, who was reading “The River of Blood” 
for the seventy-second time, sent for Dr. Houston from 
the billiard-room as soon as she saw that John was awake, 
and the doctor, with the assistance of one of the negro 
men servants, helped him to return to his room and to 
make his toilet. 

This accomplished, and his breakfast disposed of, all the 
solicitations of Gwendolyn and her aunt could not dis- 
suade John from returning at once to Judithland, for 
which place he accordingly departed in Gwendolyn’s car- 
riage, with the doctor in attendance. 

A decided objection to being laughed at was one of the 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


167 


motives which caused John to leave. He also knew that 
he could not stand ridicule without displaying his temper, 
and he had long ago acquired sufficient policy to keep out 
of the way of people with whom he was angry, when it 
was to his interest to do so. Besides, as Dr. Houston 
assured him that it might be two weeks before he could 
walk without a crutch, he could not bear the idea of being 
near Gwendolyn and unable to follow her around and to 
do things for her, and therefore he preferred to recover 
from his hurt in town. 

If John had only known it he could have made much 
more progress in Gwendolyn’s affections by spending two 
weeks at her house as an interesting invalid than in any 
other way which he could devise. From the long inher- 
itance of centuries, when it was man’s pleasure to inflict 
wounds and woman’s business to heal them, the female of 
our race has acquired an interest in sickness and a skill in 
aiding the suffering to which the male is a stranger. 

Besides, there is the natural tendency to love where we 
can aid. As a rule, a man does not think he loves a 
woman unless he believes himself bodily or mentally 
stronger than she and able to care for her. And when the 
more vigorous sex is, temporarily, in a helpless condition, 
the same feeling is apt to react upon the weaker. 

But for a man to pose as an interesting invalid he must 
possess the virtue of patience, and as this was foreign to 
John Cobbs’ nature, he probably did the sensible thing 
when he departed for Judithland. 

Gwendolyn had planned a fishing party to amuse her 
guests on the following day; and, although Mr. Cobbs’ 
accident had deprived her of one of her men, yet by dint 
of much entreaty she had persuaded Dr. Houston to take 
his place. You know that at least an equal number of 
men are as necessary on a fish-fry as they are at a dance. 


168 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


How can yon expect the dear girls to bait their own hooks, 
or to remove the cold, little, wriggling, clammy fish — if 
they happen to catch any ? 

Do not think that Dr. Houston objected to the fishing 
excursion from disinclination, because wherever Columba 
went was the place where he wished to go. Indeed, he 
made up his mind to accompany them from the very first, 
but a young doctor, in whose care is placed the arbitra- 
ment between life and death, cannot leave his patients in 
other, presumably less skillful hands, even for a day, with- 
out very careful consideration. 

It was really strange that Dr. Houston’s patients should 
be taken desperately ill so frequently when he happened to 
be at church or some other public gathering. He never 
went to the theater without being called out during the 
performance, while Dr. Chester, who had the largest prac- 
tice in Judithland, would sit calmly out the entire five 
acts. Whenever he went driving with Columba he always 
stopped at his drugstore to ascertain if he had any calls, 
and several times he left her sitting in his buggy while 
he made a very urgent visit. She was not altogether 
pleased by this latter performance, but she was immensely 
impressed with the importance of his practice, for it must 
be confessed that Columba’s intellectual faculties had 
barely sufficient weight to counterbalance three rose petals 
and a dewdrop. 

However, our progressive physician finally decided to 
leave his patients under the care of another young doctor 
for a night and a day; and, having arranged with his 
drugstore to telephone any important calls to Castle 
Montmorency, where his horse was to be kept hitched to 
his buggy, with a man in readiness to drive at speed to 
the lake for him, he was justified in feeling reasonably 
free from anxiety in regard to his practice. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


169 


As the time which he could devote to his other patients 
after leaving John Cobbs at his boarding-house would he 
so short, he had asked Gwendolyn not to expect him at 
dinner, and he told her that it probably would be late at 
night before he could return with her carriage to Castle 
Montmorency. Thus it was a, little surprise when he came 
into the dining-room while the soup plates were being 
removed. 

“I am so glad that you were able to come out in time 
for dinner, Doctor,” said Gwendolyn, cordially. “Tom, 
bring Dr. Houston a plate of soup. We’ll take pleasure 
in waiting for you, Doctor.” 

“Never mind the soup. Lady Gwendolyn,” the physi- 
cian replied. “I can do very well without it. I couldn’t 
think of keeping you all waiting.” 

But, nevertheless, the doctor plunged into the soup, or 
rather plunged the soup into the doctor, with consider- 
able avidity as soon as it arrived. He was not one of 
your weaklings who can make a full meal upon a spar- 
row’s wing. 

“I am so glad that you were able to come out,” said 
Gwendolyn again. “We would have waited for you if 
you had thought to telephone.” 

“Why, I didn’t know that I could come until it was so 
late that I did not like to telephone, for fear of keeping 
your dinner waiting too long. You know anything will 
do for me. A doctor gets used to taking his meals when- 
ever he can get them. But Cato made such good time 
coming out that I got here sooner than I expected. For 
a wonder, I didn’t have a single call at Wood’s all day. I 
don’t know when such a thing has happened before. Ju- 
dithland is getting distressingly healthy. And my last 
patient, little Sammy Strong, didn’t keep me near as long 
as I expected.” 


170 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“How is Sammy, anyhow?” Eosamond inquired. “I 
saw Mrs. Strong Sunday evening, and she was awfully 
worried about him. She said you looked so grave and 
came to see him so often that she was dreadfully alarmed, 
and she was afraid that he was worse than you would 
say.” 

The doctor looked exceedingly serious at once, and an- 
swered in a solemn tone which Ehadamanthus might have 
envied : 

“Of course, I tried to keep it from Mrs. Strong,” he 
said. “But he was a mighty sick hoy on Sunday, and I 
was very much afraid that I would not be able to pull him 
through. People generally do not realize what a serious 
disease morbilli is. Mrs. Strong foolishly thought she 
could treat him herself and did not send for me soon 
enough, and I was very uneasy about him for a few days. 
But my medicines took right hold, and I found him so 
much better this afternoon that I think I will be able to 
leave him to Dr. Dosier to-morrow without much dan- 
ger.” 

Now, really, reader, measles in its lighter form is not a 
very dangerous disease, and I do not blame Mrs. Strong 
for trying to treat it herself. But if you happen to study 
medicine, remember that the first thing for you to learn is 
that all your patients must be violently ill — if they are 
able to settle their bills. There is no possession which is 
worth one-half so much to a young physician as a solemn 
countenance; not in the sick room, mark you, but as soon 
as the distressed relative follows him across the threshold 
of the door. It brings in even more money than a carriage 
and pair, although the latter sometimes presses it hard. 

If the banker’s toe aches, never suggest a com. Such 
an idea would be utterly despicable. No, gout is the cor- 
rect term, and this will compliment the banker, make him 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


171 


think himself an aristocratic rarity, and form a most 
excellent peg to hang a bill upon. 

By thus magnifying the danger you increase your repu- 
tation by the cure; and, if anything should happen, it is 
an unfortunate visitation of Providence which human 
skill could not avert. Besides, a serious illness requires 
many more visits than a slight one, and at two dollars 
and a half each this is not a consideration to be neg- 
lected. 

Dr. Houston talked for some little time longer about 
his other patients and the pains which he had taken to 
instruct Dr. Dosier how to treat them on the next day. 
He made plain the tremendous risk which he ran by leav- 
ing them, which, of course, he considered a great com- 
pliment to his hostess. 

Horace Layton interrupted him. 

“Look here, Jim/’ he said, “you’re leaving out the only 
important part. Don’t you see how Lady Gwendolyn is 
longing for information about the beloved one’s condi- 
tion, while you are going on about other sick people, but 
she is too modest to ask you. You ought to know that 
the heroine is always plunged into an abyss of grief when 
the hero is wounded and far away.” 

Now as Gwendolyn, of course, did not care a straw 
for John Cobbs, she naturally was delighted to be teased 
about him. 

“Oh, please don’t, Mr. Layton,” she said, smiling. “I 
may break down right here now. Don’t you see how crim- 
son my eyes are ? 1 have been weeping over the poor, dear 
creature’s accident all day long.” 

“Why, you haven’t, Gwendolyn,” Columba burst out in 
amazement. “You haven’t. I’ve been with you all day 
and you haven’t cried once.” 

“Columba don’t understand how a girl can shed tears 


172 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


in her heart while she smiles with her lips,” said Rosa- 
mond, smiling also. “A girl has to be awfully in love 
before she can realize that.” 

“When Mr. Joyce was sick, just before we were en- 
gaged,” Mrs. Joyce observed, “I cried all night long. I 
didn’t expect to marry him then, either.” 

“Why, you never told me anything about that, Katie,” 
Mr. Joyce exclaimed. 

“ ’Course I didn’t,” she responded, pertly. “I didn’t 
tell you everything then. Men are too conceited to live, 
anyhow.” 

“Why, look here, Mrs. Joyce,” Horace said. “If you 
didn’t want to make Mr. Joyce conceited you ought never 
to have married him. That was the very worst thing in the 
world to give him an overwhelming opinion of himself.” 

Mrs. Joyce answered Horace, but she looked at her 
husband. 

“Well, I know, Mr. Layton,” she said. “But I am 
afraid it can’t be helped now. Anyhow, I never will do 
it again.” 

“I don’t wish to change an interesting subject,” ob- 
served the lawyer. “It always makes an old bachelor feel 
particularly comfortable when he hears these little matri- 
monial infelicities. But, really, Lady Gwendolyn is just 
dying to hear from her lover, and it isn’t at all right for 
us to keep her waiting. Tell us about it, Jim. How did 
Mr. Cobbs stand the trip to town?” 

“Oh, he was sulky and mad all the way in. Never said 
a word to me, but every time the carriage would jolt he 
would let out a big cuss word until the air actually got 
blue. That contusion on his cranium is a very serious 
affair, and there is a severe lesion of the tendon of Achil- 
les. It may take me several weeks to get him well again.” 

“And what will poor Lady Gwendolyn do in the mean- 


WINGS AND NO EYES 173 

time?” said Horace, sympathetically. “I’ll bet ten to one 
she loses twenty pounds.” 

“Oh, I can’t possibly survive it, Mr. Layton,” Gwendo- 
lyn rejoined. “I shall certainly pine away and die dis- 
consolately.” 

“You don’t mean to say you care anything for that 
fellow!” Columba exclaimed. “Why, he’s red-headed, and 
freckle-faced, and- ” 

“Don’t mind what she says, Lady Gwendolyn,” Horace 
interrupted. “She is very evidently jealous. She seems 
to think that any man whom she has not monopolized is 
not worth having. I have an indistinct recollection of 
hearing once about a fox who entertained a similar idea in 
regard to some grapes.” 

“A fox, Mr. Layton!” Columba. returned, scornfully. 
“A fox! I don’t see any connection between Mr. Cobbs 
and a fox.” 

“Oh, that’s easy. Miss Columba,” said Dr. Houston, 
with a laugh. “He only means that Cobbs’ hair is red, 
just like a fox’s.” 

“No, that’s not it,” Mr. Joyce interjected. “He means 
that Mr. Cobbs is such a high-flyer that it makes him 
look green.” 

“His hair isn’t red,” Gwendolyn protested. “It’s the 
same beautiful auburn that Titian painted.” 

“Well, you know red and green make a splendid con- 
trast,” Rosamond chimed in. “If Mr. Cobbs is green and 
his hair and face red, it makes his general color scheme 
perfect.” 

“Why, Miss Rosamond,” said Horace. “I am surprised 
at you. I never would have suspected you of jealousy. 
I thought you only wanted one man at a time, and surely 
you ought not to want to change so very soon. Give the 
present incumbent a little time to get used to it, please. 


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Do you know that is why they call jealousy the ‘green- 
eyed monster/ It is because it makes the grapes which 
hang high always look sour. I did not anticipate any- 
thing better from Miss Columba, hut I really did not ex- 
pect you to begrudge Lady Gwendolyn her poor little 
lamb.” 

“I wish you would talk something somebody could un- 
derstand, Mr. Layton,” Columha broke in. “Here you 
are going on about foxes, and grapes, and lambs, and Mr. 
Cobbs until I can’t make out anything you say.” 

“Well, anyhow, Miss Columba,” Horace replied, “you 
can understand that Mr. Cobbs is not green, except when 
he kneels down to make love to Lady Gwendolyn.” 

“If it pleases me, Mr. Layton,” Gwendolyn retorted, “I 
don’t see why you should object.” 

“Wasn’t that the way our ancestors — ” David began, 
■when Columba interrupted him. 

“What do you know about it, David?” she said, quickly. 
“You never made love to anybody.” 

“You do not know Mr. Elmore,” Rosamond rejoined. 
“He has had a lot more experience in that direction than 
you know anything about. What did you start to say, Mr. 
Elmore?” 

“I was only going to say that I thought the old cus- 
tom where the man bowed down and worshipped the 
woman he loved was such a beautiful one. We are get- 
ting entirely too matter-of-fact nowadays.” 

“It was romantic, all right,” said Horace. “But it 
unfortunately used to happen in those good old days, that, 
after the man had married his idol, if she did anything 
that did not please him, he took a stick to her. We don’t 
kneel down to ask the girls to marry us now, but we don’t 
beat our wives, either. At least I don’t think we do, but 
as I have never been married, I do not positively know. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 175 

How is it, Mrs. Joyce? Has Mr. Joyce taken a switch to 
you yet?” 

“Not very often, Mr. Layton,” replied Mrs. Joyce, smil- 
ing fondly at her husband. 

“She needs it sometimes,” Mr. Joyce observed, smiling 
hack at his wife, “but I thought I would wait until the 
honeymoon was over.” 

“That reminds me of a funny thing that happened to 
me once,” said Dr. Houston. “I was going home one 
evening about sundown, when I heard a woman scream- 
ing in a negro shanty as if she was being murdered. Of 
course, I couldn’t let anything of that kind be done, so I 
just kicked the door open and rushed in; and there was 
a big six-foot negro woman tied to the bedpost and a 
little man was lamming her with a strap, and she was 
howling like everything. Well, I was a good deal of an 
athlete in those days and rather proud of my strength, so 
I just knocked the man down and he lay in the corner 
half-stunned. I cut the woman down and, like a fool, I 
thought she would be grateful; but she turned on me and 
abused me for everything bad she could think of. Well, 
I naturally backed out, seeing I wasn’t wanted; but she 
followed me out of the door, getting more and more vio- 
lent, and finally she actually knocked me into the gutter. 
It was dry, and I wasn’t hurt at all; in fact, I wouldn’t 
have fallen if I hadn’t backed into it; so I just sat there to 
see what she would do. Well, she ran over to where her 
husband was coming to himself, and picked him up and 
put him in a chair, and when I came away I’m blessed if 
he wasn’t tying her to the bedpost again. Funny, wasn’t 
it? She really seemed to enjoy being whipped.” 

“I think I can explain the psychological reaction,” said 
Horace. “Like all women, she wanted to think that her 
husband was the greatest man in the world, and as she 


176 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


was so much the larger, the only way she could fully ap- 
preciate it was for her to let him beat her.” 

Dr. Houston had finished his soup by this time, and the 
arrival of fish from the kitchen in the yard interrupted 
the progress of the conversation and this chapter. I do 
not altogether approve of reporting table talk, anyhow. 
An autocrat may sometimes lecture at the breakfast-table; 
but, with a working audience at a boarding-house, he 
must do it at the expense of his own nourishment; and, 
personally, I could not afford to be deprived of this, even 
if I had any qualifications for a lecturer, which I have 
not. 

But the discourse of ordinary mortals at meals is en- 
tirely too fragmentary and interspersed with too many 
questions and answers bearing solely upon the business in 
hand to be worth printing verbatim in the poorest book. 
Wherefore, if you please, we will allow our friends to 
finish dinner by themselves and send them speedily to 
bed, so that they may not be too sulky from lack of sleep 
when we arouse them for the fishing excursion early to- 
morrow morning. 

Because Miss Zenobia was not heard from at the dinner- 
table you must not think that she was suddenly stricken 
dumb. Indeed, she was talking most of the time, to David 
Elmore, principally; but, you see, I don’t tell everything. 


[WINGS AND NO EYES 


177 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

FISHING AND FUSSING. 

T HE clock struck four the next morning when Gwen- 
dolyn and her guests were gathered around the 
breakfast-table, where Miss Zenobia was pouring 
out hot coffee. Nothing could have induced that lady to 
start off on a pleasure excursion at such an unreasonable 
hour, especially as Mr. and Mrs. Joyce were going to chap- 
erone the party. She thought with much complacency of 
the delicious nap which she would take after her young 
friends had departed on their wild fish chase. 

Strange to say. Lady Gwendolyn had never been fishing 
in all her life. In her childhood, before her father’s death, 
she had been entirely under the care of her aunt, who 
was always unwilling to permit her charge to go near so 
dangerous a place as a lake; although Cato, their colored 
coachman, would have been delighted to accompany her. 
During her hotel life in Europe she had no opportunity in 
which to learn the fascination of the bobbing cork, and 
her previous visits to her country mansion had been for 
work and not for play. 

Horace Layton suggested the fish-fry to her, and pro- 
posed the early rising in order to greet the fish when their 
appetites were still unsatisfied. This idea pleased Gwen- 
dolyn immensely when it was first advanced. It would be 
60 romantic to start off in the darkness, just as if they 


178 


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were bound on some marauding expedition. She fre- 
quently aroused the characters in her novels at such early 
hours, hut she herself had never witnessed a sunrise, and 
she anticipated much enjoyment, and also profit, from the 
experience. 

All this, remember, was on the days preceding. But 
when Parthenia, her maid, awakened her at half-past 
three she felt as if she had just fallen asleep, and only 
the courtesy which she owed as a hostess prevailed on 
her to dress and come downstairs. She arrived at the 
breakfast-table in a very sulky mood, and as the other 
members of the company were in a similar mental condi- 
tion the commencement of the pleasure excursion bore 
more resemblance to a funeral than it did to a wedding. 

However, the coffee revived them somewhat; the gen- 
tlemen assumed a forced gayety, to show that sleep was of 
no consequence to them, and thus they climbed into their 
wagon with some semblance of mirth. The moon had just 
descended to her diurnal couch under the western horizon, 
and old Sol was beginning to turn over in bed, and to 
think about arising to make things warm for the inhab- 
itants of this terraqueous sphere. And as their great op- 
pressors were absent, the little stars were striving to prove 
that they were competent to enlighten our world, as well 
as the million other globes scattered throughout infinite 
space. 

There can be only one correct way to go to a fish-fry. 
You must have a plantation wagon, drawn by four good 
mules, and the company must be seated on mattresses in 
the bottom. It is absolutely essential that the wagon 
should have no springs. 

The only chance of success possessed by a picnic of this 
kind will be found to consist in its entire informality. If 
you start the day reclining with dignity upon the soft 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


179 


cushions of a luxurious carriage, or even sitting bolt up- 
right on a rush-bottom chair in a farm wagon, you are apt 
to continue as you began, and your hopes of happiness are 
not likely to be realized. To be sure, in the latter case 
you may be tilted out of the wagon in a bad place in the 
road, which would effectually eliminate the starch from 
your would-be merry-makers. But for such a blessing as 
this you must depend entirely upon luck, and Dame For- 
tune is too fickle a lady for you to base your prospects for 
a day’s pleasure on her decrees. 

But start off your party in the early morning after a 
liberal dose of good hot coffee, place them on the floor of 
a country wagon over a rough road, and if they have any 
merriment in them it will certainly be jolted to the surface. 

Gwendolyn did not understand this essential ingredient 
of her excursion. The only young people with whom she 
was familiar had grown gray and died some hundred years 
before. But her legal adviser possessed much experience 
on the subject, and he advocated the wagon so strongly 
that she abandoned her original idea of the carriage and a 
hack from town. 

The mule-bells tinkled musically as their well-kept 
wearers briskly trotted along the four miles of country 
road which forms the connecting link between Castle 
Montmorency and Frye’s Lake, to which our party of 
pleasure-seekers was bound. 

This lake, with a name so suggestive of the ultimate 
destination of its inhabitants, is a pleasant locality during 
the summer months, and is much visited by the youth of 
Judithland. In no place more than a hundred yards wide, 
it is nearly a mile in length, and it abounds in perch and 
bass. Its banks are lined with stately cypress trees, which, 
projecting far out over the water, form a grateful shade 
from the rays of the summer sun. Near the landing where 


180 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


the boats are kept the enterprising fishermen of the city 
have built a two-room cottage, to which the ladies may 
retire when their womanly instinct urges them to rear- 
range their disheveled tresses or dab some powder on a 
nose which blushes crimson still at the remembrance of 
the recent kiss of the orb of day. 

The house and the boats were in the care of an old negro 
man who lived in the neighborhood, and who also fur- 
nished bait to fishing parties. He was waiting at the land- 
ing when our friends drove up and alighted. 

It so happened that there were only three boats at the 
landing, each being supplied with minnows and fishing 
tackle. They were flat-bottomed craft with square ends, 
intended for propulsion by paddles, and having wells in 
their centers with holes bored in the bottom to preserve the 
fish alive. Two of the boats were designed to accommo- 
date two persons each, one at either end; while the third 
was large enough to hold four or five without discomfort. 

With his usual bad luck, David had been sitting on the 
side of the wagon opposite to the landing, which deprived 
him of the opportunity of assisting the ladies to alight; 
but this enabled him first to notice the number and size of 
the boats provided. 

He had made up his mind that he would overcome his 
constitutional timidity and try to please Columba as al- 
most any other man would do, and for the last two days 
she had been somewhat gracious to him. 

“Oh, Miss Columba,” he said, as soon as he jumped over 
the side of the wagon, “won’t you go out in a boat with 
me?” 

Columba was just about to consent, when Dr. Houston, 
who had assisted her to alight from the wagon, inter- 
rupted her. 

“I am very sorry, Dave,” he said, taking her arm as he 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


181 


spoke, “but Miss Columba promised to go out with me 
half an hour ago.” 

“I didn’t. Dr. Houston,” she began; but how can a girl 
do anything to resist a man of that kind? Before the 
words were well out of her mouth he had placed her in 
the best small boat and pushed off with her from the land- 
ing. It is very difficult for a young woman to make up 
her mind, and a man who acts promptly can easily cause 
her to do things which she has no intention of doing. 

As David turned disconcerted from seeing his sweet- 
heart carried off before his eyes, Horace was helping Gwen- 
dolyn to a seat in the other small boat, and Rosamond had 
gone with Mr. and Mrs. Joyce toward the larger one, to 
which David slowly followed them. 

I feel somewhat sorry for Rosamond. After reigning 
pre-eminent as the belle of the county for so many years, 
and thinking nothing of having a dozen men ask her to 
go to some one social function, to be compelled at last to 
depend upon the chaperones must have been a Leipsic or 
a Waterloo to her soul. Yet it was to be expected. If she 
could have contented herself to rule over a kingdom of 
two she might have been provided with a permanent escort 
long ago. But, like Napoleon, she extended her conquests 
far and wide, and, like Napoleon, she lived to see them 
fall away one by one and acknowledge allegiance to other 
sovereigns. 

Columba, of course, was pleased to have two of the three 
unmarried men in a little squabble for her company. But 
she thought it her duty to appear angry at being in a meas- 
ure forcibly carried away; and, besides, she really wished to 
go with David, although she was extremely contemptuous 
that he should allow himself to be imposed on in such a 
fashion. What she thought he ought to have done I can- 
not say. She may have expected him to knock his rival 


182 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


down or drag her away by main force. I have known 
women who had such primitive ideas, and who would ap- 
parently have been charmed for their lovers to kill each 
other over no worse slights than David had received. 

“Dr. Houston,” she began, “I do not like you to do 
that way. I can make up my own mind. Fm not a 
child.” 

“I know you didn’t want to go with that fellow,” he 
returned, “so I just thought I would get ahead of him. 
He stood there like an idiot while I was putting you into 
the boat.” 

Now this was where the doctor made his mistake, because 
it is a cardinal principle of the game never to speak of 
your rivals in uncomplimentary terms. It causes the 
women to defend them at once, which reacts in raising 
them in her esteem; and, besides, it is a decided affront to 
insinuate that a girl has only one desirable lover. 

“You certainly have a good opinion of yourself.” Co- 
lumba was beginning to get angry now. “There wasn’t 
anything else David could do when you were so very 
rude.” 

“Oh, I guess not,” he replied, easily, as he picked up a 
paddle and commenced to propel the boat toward the 
upper end of the lake. “You needn’t have come with me 
if you hadn’t wanted to.” 

“Why, I didn’t want to come with you. I wanted to go 
with David.” 

“You couldn’t have wanted to go with that fellow. He 
sits ’round like a bump on a log and don’t say anything 
more than a calf.” 

“Nobody has a chance to say anything where you are. 
You keep up such an everlasting flow of nonsense.” 

“I’m not the only one,” he returned. “Your conversa- 
tion is not remarkable for its intellectual brilliancy.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


183 


The doctor was beginning to get angry himself. It 
seems a pity that a man cannot always keep his temper 
when with a maiden, but nevertheless it is true that some- 
times it gets away from him, even if the woman he loves 
is the person who excites his ill-humor. It rarely hap- 
pened with Dr. Houston, and he generally received Co- 
lumba’s hasty speeches with remarkable equanimity. But 
this morning, remember that he had arisen soon after 
three o’clock; and, although as a physician he was accus- 
tomed to irregular hours, yet such early rising is not cal- 
culated to improve one’s temper. 

“Dr. Houston,” she said, flushing scarlet, “take me back 
to the landing. I won’t stay in the boat with you a minute 
longer. Mr. Elmore would never say anything so ungen- 
tlemanly.” 

“Indeed, I have no desire to stay with you> Miss Wil- 
mot,” he returned, hotly. “But I cannot leave you at the 
landing, because there is no one there.” 

“Take me to Mr. and Mrs. Joyce, then. I’ll get in the 
boat with them.” 

“And David? You want to go back to that fellow, do 
you? I will not do anything of the kind.” 

“Dr. Houston, I will go.” 

“Well, you won’t; unless you swim.” 

“There comes Mr. Layton and Gwendolyn. I’ll scream 
to them.” 

“If you do. Miss Columba, I will never speak to yon 
again as long as I live.” 

Columba was very angry. But, while she had no ob- 
jection to quarreling with her lover in private, she had no 
intention of breaking with him irretrievably ; and, in spite 
of her passion, she knew that Dr. Houston would keep his 
word if she did what she proposed. 


184 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“I have no intention of ever speaking to you again, Dr. 
Houston,” she said. “You are no gentleman.” 

But all the same she did not scream. 

For some minutes he paddled the boat furiously, and no 
word was spoken by either. Columba, who was facing the 
stem, saw Horace and Gwendolyn stop on the other side 
of the lake, where Horace began to prepare the fishing 
lines. 

“Dr. Houston,” she said, icily, “Mr. Layton and Gwen- 
dolyn have stopped over there. Please take me to them.” 

He turned the boat without making any reply; and, 
with vigorous strokes of his paddle, sent it rapidly toward 
the opposite shore of the narrow lake and soon approached 
the place where their friends were just beginning to fish. 

“Hope you don’t object to our company,” Dr. Houston 
observed, when they came within easy speaking distance 
of the other boat. 

“Why, no,” Horace answered, “of course, we are glad 
to have you. This looks to me like a good place for fish. 
If you will throw your lines near that fallen tree I think 
you will get some bites.” 

“You didn’t have anything that you wished to say to 
Gwendolyn in private, did you, Mr. Layton?” Columba 
inquired, after a few moments’ pause. “Because, if you 
did, we will go away again.” 

“No, indeed. Miss Columba. I have lived in this great 
world too many years not to know better than to make 
love to a girl before she has had her breakfast. You know 
that all animals are cross before they are fed.” 

“Now, Mr. Layton,” said Gwendolyn, smiling, “I do 
not think that is a bit pretty. You know I have not been 
cross this morning; and, besides, I do not like to be called 
an animal.” 

“You remind me very much of a dear little gazelle/’ 


185 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

replied Horace. “You are so gentle in your disposition. 
Do you know, Miss Columba, she even objected to my put- 
ting a minnow on her hook, until I explained to her that 
it didn’t hurt them at all, and that they would be more 
than proud to serve such a. celebrated person.” 

“Here is your line, Miss Columba,” said Dr. Houston. 

“I do not care to fish. Dr. Houston,” she replied. 

“Why, what is the matter?” asked Horace. “What are 
we are going to do for breakfast, if you don’t help us 
out ?” 

“I do not care to fish, Mr. Layton. I never do.” 

“But don’t you know that the fish will never bite at 
a man’s hook when such charming girls are around? And 
if they see you sitting here without trying to attract them 
they may get mad and not come to breakfast with us.” 

Columba made no reply, and for some minutes the party 
gave themselves up to watching the placidly floating corks 
in silence. Through the clefts in the trees the gorgeous 
tints of the morning could be seen in the eastern sky, and 
the sun’s first rays had just begun to touch the top of the 
grove on the opposite shore. A lone dragonfly, emulating 
the famous early bird, bobbed here and there over the 
face of the water in search of prey, with occasional pauses 
for rest on one and another of the corks, a sure sign of 
luck to the fisherman. The steep banks shielded the lake 
from the gentle morning breeze, and its surface was as 
smooth and unwrinkled as the cheeks of a maiden just 
blushing into womanhood. 

It was Horace who disturbed the silence by a whisper. 

“You have a bite. Lady Gwendolyn,” he said. 

To tell you the truth, Gwendolyn’s thoughts were not 
directed toward her cork. She was just arranging a little 
scene in her mind for the next novel, where one of the 
villains should push the hero, who was clad in complete 


186 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


armor, into the castle moat, and then try to keep him 
nnder water with a spear. But, of course, it was an easy 
matter for the hero to pull the villain in by his own spear, 
cut off his head while swimming with one hand, climb 
the side of the moat by aid of the spear, and continue his 
conquering journey. The fact that a knight would be 
unable to swim when armed cap-a-pie did not bother our 
authoress a particle. I do not believe that she even 
thought of the difficulty, for she was too great a genius 
ever to trouble herself about such puny forces as the at- 
traction of gravitation. But if she had thought about it 
the combat would not have been changed, for she never 
objected to her characters performing impossibilities. Such 
feats only demonstrated the superiority of her heroes to 
ordinary mortals. And, judging from the sales of her 
books, her readers also highly approved of them and con- 
tinually called for more. 

'“What did you say, Mr. Layton?” she asked, when 
Horace interrupted her meditations. 

“You’ve got a bite.” 

“A bite?” 

“Yes, look at your cork.” 

“Why, it’s gone. Where is my cork?” 

“Pull in your line. You’ve caught a fish.” 

But as Gwendolyn was obviously undecided as to the 
proper method of performing this feat, Horace arose care- 
fully, and, taking the pole from her hands, he pulled a 
large sun perch out of the water. 

“You have a fine one,” Dr. Houston remarked, as 
Horace caught it in his hand. 

“But, Mr. Layton,” Gwendolyn exclaimed, in a grieved 
tone of voice, “the hook is right through its mouth.” 

“Why, certainly,” he returned. “Where did you expect 
the hook to be?” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 187 

“But it must hurt it awfully. And it is such a pretty 
thing.” 

“Well, I suppose it does hurt it somewhat,” Horace said, 
as he detached the hook after some trouble and placed the 
fish in the live box. “But you cannot expect to catch fish 
without hurting them.” 

“Well, then, I won’t fish any more. I am not going to 
hurt the poor little things that way. I don’t think it’s 
right. E-e-e,” she went on, covering her face with her 
hands. “Don’t do that, Mr. Layton.” 

This concluding remark was made when Horace was 
placing a fresh minnow on her hook. 

Dr. Houston was inclined to laugh, as his course in the 
medical school had made him extremely callous to the 
infliction of pain on other creatures. He wondered how 
Gwendolyn would have enjoyed certain vivisecting opera- 
tions, in which he had taken part with much pleasure. 
But he never forgot his business, and Gwendolyn paid 
twenty-five dollars a visit, and so he said, gravely: 

“Your humanity does you a great deal of credit, Lady 
Gwendolyn. But I think that you need not trouble your- 
self in this case. You see, the mouth of a fish is com- 
posed entirely of cartilage and carries no nerve fiber at all. 
A fish has no more feeling in its mouth than you have in 
your hair or your nails.” 

“But it would hurt me awfully to be lifted up by my 
hair.” 

“That is because your hair is attached to the epidermis 
of your head, which bears nerve fiber. There is no sensa- 
tion in the hair itself. Now, the cartilage of a fish’s 
mouth is attached to the bone, which carries no nerves.” 

“Are you certain it didn’t hurt him, Dr. Houston?” 1 

“Yes, I am absolutely sure of it. There can be no pain 
without nerves.” 


188 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

“And look how happy he is now,” Horace added, point- 
ing to the live box. “He looks as if he was extremely 
proud of being caught by such a celebrated hand.” 

“Hush,” said Dr. Houston, in a whisper. “Fve got a 
bite, myself.” 

The great authoress of romance, having her fears re- 
lieved in regard to the humanity of her present occupa- 
tion, the party continued to fish with indifferent success 
until the sound of the breakfast-horn from the cottage 
drew all hands to the center of attraction. 

Gwendolyn’s man cook had come out in the wagon with 
the provisions, and when our friends gathered at the land- 
ing they found a large table-cloth spread on a smooth 
piece of ground, on which great platters of fish were rein- 
forced by fresh rolls and steaming-hot coffee. 

It will at once be evident to the astute reader that the 
cook had had an interview with the fisherman in charge 
of the lake on a day before the picnic. Because the reader 
knows without doubt the first principle, that if you go on 
a fish-fry and wish to have a fish-fry, you must be sure to 
arrange for the fish to fry before you go to the fish-fry. 

But no matter who caught the fish, they pleased our 
hungry friends exceedingly and disappeared with a won- 
derful celerity, as if they had again dived beneath the sur- 
face of their own cherished lake. You may be certain 
that Lady Gwendolyn’s sympathy for the poor little crea- 
tures had also vanished when they lay before her, brown 
and hot, with a knife and fork at hand. 

After resting awhile when breakfast was finished, Dr. 
Houston assisted Bosamond into his boat and drove it 
rapidly down the lake. Horace would gladly have allowed 
David to take Columba out in the other tete-a-tete boat, 
but that young woman stuck closely to Mrs. Joyce, and 
insisted on going in the boat with the chaperones. After 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


189 


quarreling with one of her lovers because he made fun of 
the other, she was now inclined to fall out with the other 
for no reason in, the world except that she had had a fuss 
on his account. 

Young girls are certainly unaccountable creatures, and 
if you attempt to woo one of them, when by chance you 
have excited some interest in her breast, you may daily 
expect insult and contumely. Indeed, as I have remarked 
before, unless you have an inordinate opinion of your own 
merits, your chance of success will be slight. But as most 
men possess this quality, I presume that few matches are 
entirely prevented by a maiden’s vagaries, and it is only 
the unusual man like David who is in danger of losing the 
woman who loves him. 

However, Columba did not succeed in picking a quarrel 
with David on this occasion, because he was so much 
chagrined by his failure of the morning that he devoted 
himself to the married lady, and left her to Mr. Joyce’s 
care for assistance in her fishing operations. 


190 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTEK XIX. 


MRS. MEDLOCK’S DILEMMA. 


OHN COBBS’ injuries were somewhat more serious 



than the doctor had at first supposed, and it was 


several days before he was permitted to return to his 
store. He passed the time of his enforced idleness on a 
lounge in Mrs. Wilmot’s sitting-room, and he was as cross 
as a bear with a sore head. 

I do not wish the reader to suppose that I am inti- 
mately acquainted with any hears with sore heads, or in- 
deed with any bears at all. I generally avoid such charac- 
ters if I can. But there is a prevailing impression that a 
person in a bad humor is either as cross as a bear or as 
cross as two sticks; and, as I think that bruin with a sore 
head would be much more disagreeable to have in the 
family than a couple of strips of wood at right angles to 
each other, I use the former expression. 

Mrs. Medlock had kindly constituted herself chief nurse 
and spent the greater portion of her time in waiting on 
the invalid and in trying to amuse him. Her success in 
this latter endeavor was very doubtful, but she was a good- 
natured lady and she did not mind her patient’s sulki- 
ness. 

Mamye Clay came every evening after the store was 
closed to render an account of the business. She rather 
dreaded these interviews, because her employer found so 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


191 


much fault, and generally expressed the opinion that the 
store was horribly mismanaged, and that he was being 
ruined with great rapidity, and would soon have to apply 
for a situation in the poorhouse. 

On the fourth evening after the accident, however, she 
found him in a much better humor. Dr. Houston had 
just left, after having announced that his patient was well 
enough to go to his store in a carriage the next day, and 
when Mrs. Medlock came in from paying a call, she found 
John and Mamye chatting together very amicably. 

“I say, Mrs. Medlock,” John said, as soon as that lady 
appeared, “what’s the matter with the Doc? I only asked 
him how he and little C’lumby was getting on at the 
house-party, and he got on his ear right off. Said he 
didn’t know nothing about Miss Wilmot, and what’s more, 
he didn’t care. I said I thought they was rattling sweet 
when I left, and I’ll be — no, I mean he got up and 
slammed the door behind him without saying nothing 
more.” 

Mrs. Medlock was in her element in the twinkling of a 
star, because if there was one thing which she did enjoy 
more than anything else in the world it was somebody’s 
love affair. 

“I heard all about it just now,” she returned, briskly. 
“Mrs. Douglass was just telling me, and she got it from 
good authority. In fact, I think she said Susie Raymond 
told her. Anyway, he had a big quarrel with Columba 
out at Gwendolyn’s fish-fry. He told her he was tired of 
her way of playing fast and loose, and that he was bound 
to have a positive answer right off. And she tried to put 
him off again, but he wouldn’t stand it, and so she let him 
know that she was engaged to David Elmore, and that 
they were going to be married this fall. Mrs. Douglass 
said the doctor was awfully cut up about it, and he just 


192 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


left her in a boat in the middle of the lake and walked 
eight miles to Castle Montmorency to get his buggy, to 
come home.” 

“But Dave is in love with Rosy Lattimer,” Mamye 
objected, as soon as Mrs. Medlock paused to take breath. 

“Columba made him do that. You see, she didn’t want 
anybody to know she was going to be married, and she 
hasn’t let him come here for nearly two months, and she’s 
been carrying on with Dr. Houston all this time. But 
it’s all out now, because Columba told all about it at the 
breakfast-table, and asked Gwendolyn and Rosamond to 
be bridesmaids.” 

“If I had a sweetheart,” said Mamye Clay, somewhat 
sadly, “I’d want to see him oftener than once in two 
months.” 

“Can’t see why you ain’t got none,” John interposed, 
grinning. “You’re a medium good-looking girl, and you 
sho do try hard.” 

“It’s because Mamye is too particular,” Mrs. Medlock 
began, when Mamye interrupted her. 

“You needn’t talk, Mr. Cobbs,” she said, pertly. “I 
ain’t heard that you are engaged to Gwendolyn, if you 
did go to the house-party.” 

“It’s only because I fell down those — stairs,” John re- 
turned, scowling. “I’d had her before now if I hadn’t.” 

“Columba’s a peculiar girl,” said Mrs. Medlock. John 
had displayed so much bad temper in regard to his acci- 
dent that she was anxious to change the subject. “I re- 
member once when I was a girl that I was engaged to four 
men at the same time, and I had an awful time keeping 
them straight. Two of them lived out of town, so they 
were not so much trouble, as a general thing; and I made 
it a condition that none of them should ever come to see 
me without first asking permission, and, of course, I only 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


193 


wore the ring of the man I expected to see. But I got 
into an awful scrape about it one evening. I had an en- 
gagement to go calling with an outside man, and I was 
sitting there playing the piano waiting for him, with four 
big diamonds on my finger, when the bell rang and I 
turned ’round as the parlor door opened, and there stood 
one of the men I was engaged to. The man I was going 
out with couldn’t come, and sent him to tell me. Well, I 
whipped my left hand under my dress as quick as I could, 
but he wanted to know what was the matter, and — and — 
Oh, well, you know how men do. He would have found 
out all about it because, of course, he was stronger than 
I, but the bell rang again and he had to stop. And in 
came the other town man. He wanted to borrow a book, 
and when he found the other man he just sat down and 
stayed. Of course, they hated each other worse than poi- 
son, although each one thought he had the best of it, and 
they just sat and glared at each other. And the funny 
part of it was that pretty soon one of the out-of-town men 
came. He had telegraphed, but I didn’t get the message 
till the next day. And there I was with those rings on my 
hand under a fold of my dress, and I couldn’t even get up 
to shake hands with them. Oh, it was awful, awful.” 

“But how did you finally get rid of them, Mrs. Med- 
lock?” asked Mamye, much interested. 

“Why, about ten o’clock my father came in and stopped 
at the parlor door to see who was there, and, of course, the 
men all got up to speak to him, and when they did I jerked 
the rings off and dropped them in the piano. The top 
was raised, you know. They made an awful noise when 
they fell, and the men looked mighty funny. Each one 
thought I was trying to hide his ring from the others, 
and they all got mad, and I had no end of trouble smooth- 


194 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


ing it over. But it wasn’t near as bad as it would have 
been if they had seen all those rings.” 

“Was Mr. Medlock one of the men?” Mamye asked. 

“No, that was a long time before I met Mr. Medlock. 
I never had any idea of marrying a preacher then.” 

“You must have had an awful, lot of fun when you were 
a girl, Mrs. Medlock,” said Mamye. 

“Well, it was a good deal of fun, Mamye, but it was a 
whole lot of trouble, and I had to tell so many stories. 
One afternoon I was going driving with one of the nicest 
of the men, and we sat down in the parlor for a little 
while, because — because — Oh, well, you know driving is 
so public. And we had just promised to tell each other 
everything and never to have any secrets, when the post- 
man came; and, like an idiot, the maid brought me a letter 
from another man right there in the parlor. And what 
could I do? I couldn’t show it to him, and it evidently 
wasn’t a business letter, so I couldn’t say it was from a 
dressmaker, and so I just told him it was from my 
brother and laid it on the mantel-piece. But he knew my 
brother’s handwriting; and, besides, he saw the postmark, 
and brothers don’t write you sixteen pages, anyhow; and, 
although he was perfectly polite and did not question my 
word for a minute, yet he stopped coming to my house and 
I had to break off the engagement. And he was the nicest 
man of them all, and rich, too; and if it had not been for 
that idiotic maid I might have married him.” 

“But you got married, anyhow,” Mamye suggested. 

“Oh, yes, I married Mr. Medlock. But that was years 
afterwards. And I really liked that man, too. And he 
never would come back. He must have found out some- 
thing besides the letter.” 

“Why didn’t you marry him right off if you wanted to 
and kick the other fellows ?” J ohn asked. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


195 


“Why, looking back on the whole affair, Mr. Cobbs, I 
really don’t know. He was a nice man and dreadfully in 
love with me, and I liked him, too; hut I know now that 
I treated him shamefully. I suppose I thought that he 
loved me so much that I could do as I pleased, but I think 
now that he was entirely right in giving me up. He never 
married; he’s an old bachelor right now in the town I 
came from, and I married Mr. Medlock after about five 
years. But he never would come back.” 

“That fellow was a fool,” said John. “I’d have made 
you marry me if I had wanted to.” 

“Well, let’s see you make Gwendolyn marry you now,” 
said Mamye. 

“I bet you ten dollars that I marry the lady before 
Christmas, if I can ever get my foot well.” 

“Oh, you’ll he all right in a week or two,” Mrs. Med- 
lock remarked, encouragingly, “and all ready to ask 
Gwendolyn to go to the Fair with you.” 

“They tell me they’re going to have a big ball in the 
firemen’s hall during Fair week,” Mamye said, with much 
enthusiasm. 

“Don’t you think you’d better write a note and ask 
Gwendolyn to go with you right away, Mr. Cobbs?” said 
Mrs. Medlock. “When I was a girl I used to make en- 
gagements months in advance.” 

“But I ain’t got no invite to the party,” John ob- 
jected. 

“Oh, it’ll be given by the young men,” Mamye ex- 
plained, “and of course they’ll want all they can get. You 
only have to pay your share of the expenses.” 

“That’ll be all hunkey, then. I ain’t done no dancing 
in a long time, but I reckon I’ll get on all right.” 

“Why, of course you will,” Mrs. Medlock rejoined. “I 
don’t believe anybody could forget how to dance after they 


196 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


had once learned how. I only wish I could go,” she con- 
tinued, somewhat sadly. “That is one thing about being 
a preacher's wife that I have never gotten reconciled to. 
Of course, I wouldn’t expect to dance much, but I would 
like to go and look on, anyhow. I don’t see any harm in 
dancing, but I suppose I ought not to say so as long as 
the church says it’s wrong.” 

“It’s a mighty lot of fun, 'Mrs. Medlock,” said John. 
“But I reckon that’s why they don’t want you to do it, 
ain’t it? I don’t take no stock in churches. They’re al- 
ways trying to keep a fellow from having any fun.” 

Mrs. Medlock’s face showed that she thoroughly agreed 
with John in this opinion. But her official position as 
preacher’s wife, of course, compelled her to say a few 
words in defense of the organization from which her hus- 
band drew his support. This she did in a half-hearted 
fashion, as if she hardly believed what she said, after 
which Mamye Clay took up the thread of the conversa- 
tion. 

“They say the Fair this year is going to be perfectly 
splendid,” she said. “They are going to have a balloon 
ascension, and a bull fight, and horse races, and a whole 
lot of other things.” 

“They struck me for fifty plunks last week,” John ob- 
served, with a frown. “I ought to get some fun for my 
money; I won’t get nothing else.” 

“You are going to have an exhibit out there, I suppose,” 
said Mrs. Medlock, “and put Mamye in charge of it. All 
the prominent merchants are going to.” 

“Oh, I reckon so,” he returned, sulkily. “If I can ever 
get my foot well. You going, Miss Mamye?” he contin- 
ued, as she arose to take her leave. “Well, I’ll be down in 
the morning, and kind of straighten things up ; you see, if 
I don’t. You be on time, understand?” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


197 


CHAPTER XX. 
love’s conduct. 

W HEN a man loves a woman his first impulse is 
to tell her about it. And then, when a sense of 
his utter unworthiness overwhelms him and he 
realizes her infinite superiority, the idea that such a divine 
being could ever consent to marry him seems so thor- 
oughly absurd that his second thought is to keep his trou- 
ble to himself and tell her nothing. 

Now, course, the first impulse is the strongest. If it 
were not so, there would he few marriages for love in this 
world. But when the truth does come out, the struggle 
between these conflicting emotions in the soul of the man 
produces a stammering avowal, which is as far from the 
fluent love-making of the characters in novels written by 
authors of Gwendolyn’s school as the sky is from the 
earth. 

Please understand me, gentle reader. The love of which 
I speak is the pure, refined metal„ from which all the 
dross of self has been eliminated, and it is a much rarer 
commodity in this world than you have probably been 
taught to believe. 

When a man in a fit of jealous rage takes the life of a 
woman who has refused him and then his own, his act is 
caused by a passion which the unthinking world calls love, 
hut which bears the same resemblance to romantic love as 


198 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


an Ethiopian does to a Caucasian. If he really loved the 
woman he would grieve because she preferred another to 
himself; but he would thoroughly acquiesce in her de- 
cision, and the idea of depriving her of life could never 
by any possibility enter his head. 

I have known men who really believed they were in 
love; so much so indeed that they almost proclaimed it 
from the housetops. If the women exchanged ten words 
with other men they were quivering with anger immedi- 
ately, and they expected and required the maidens they 
were said to love to walk in paths which they chose for 
them, under the high penalty of their displeasure. But if 
the woman did some little thing to wound the egoism of 
one of these men, presto, his so-called love was gone, and 
in all probability he would he in love with another girl in 
the same fashion in a few short months. 

Under the influence of a passion of this kind a man 
might die for a woman, but assuredly he would not be 
willing to live for her. For, in spite of the very highest 
authority to the contrary, I believe that a man may have 
a greater love than that which is expressed by a willing- 
ness to lay down his life for his friend. 

The fact is, that a readiness to die for a cause or a per- 
son is not at all an uncommon trait in human nature. Do 
not the firemen in our large cities risk their lives daily for 
money? When the hour demands the sacrifice of the life 
of a pilot or an engineer of a great steamer for the saving 
of those committed to his charge, you will find it rare that 
such a sacrifice is refused. It is really unusual for a per- 
son to he in extreme need and no one ready to place life 
in hazard to assist him. 

More than this: In time of war are participants in 
forlorn hopes lacking? Will not a man go into the do- 
minion of death, where the chances of survival are scarcely 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


199 


one in a million, urged on by a fantastic sentiment termed 
honor, which, as Falstaff said, is the property of him 
“who died o 5 Wednesday/ 5 “Dulce et decorum est pro 
patria mori ?’ This is a sublime sentiment and greatly 
to be praised. But when the war is waged, not for the 
preservation of one's own fatherland, but for the robbery 
of the home of another people, are there not always men 
as willing to die for an ignoble object as there are for a 
noble one? 

Many animals even, whom we have termed lower than 
ourselves, are ready at all times to face death for the pres- 
ervation of their offspring or their mates. 

No, I do not think that to lay down a life is the great- 
est evidence of love that a man can display. But if you 
find one who, during a long life, will bear the odium of a 
false accusation, the scorn and contumely of the world, 
and even the contempt of one whom he loves, in order 
that he may shield such a one from calamity, and all this 
without possible hope of advantage to himself; if you can 
find such a one, I say, you have discovered the sublimest 
height to which the love of earth can attain. As I said 
before, it is a rare commodity. 

I am somewhat wandering from my subject, because, 
although I know that David Elmore was really in love 
with Columba Wilmot, yet as there was no occasion for his 
suffering any shame to protect her, I cannot say positively 
that he was capable of it, although I believe that he was. 

But this is an extremely commonplace story which con- 
cerns itself only with ordinary mortals, whose actions sel- 
dom depart from the beaten track as far as the width of a 
No. 2 shoe. I suppose I ought to except from this candid 
statement the celebrated novelist, and most assuredly 
would if I had any idea that these pages would ever meet 
her eyes. But she very seldom reads any books except her 


200 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


own; and as I am given to understand by publishers’ ad- 
vertisements that great geniuses are as plentiful as cats 
on a backyard fence, I will allow her to remain among the 
ordinary mortals. 

Three weeks had passed since the conversation recorded 
in the preceding chapter and the evening before the great 
county fair had arrived. 

During these weeks David had been trying to fill the 
vacancy which Dr. Houston’s absence had left at Mrs. 
Wilmot’s residence; but it must be confessed that his 
success was not very noticeable. He forced himself to 
leave his pride and his diffidence in his bandbox, and he 
went to call at Columba’s home almost every evening. 

The statement that David called on Columba. so fre- 
quently by no means includes the information that he saw 
her, for that young woman had developed a most unac- 
countable series of headaches, which he was informed that 
she was suffering from as soon as he arrived. Occasion- 
ally, coming in without being expected, he found her sit- 
ting on the front gallery with some of the boarders, and 
he passed most enjoyable (?) evenings listening to Mrs. 
Medlock’s reminiscences. Of course, he asked Columba 
many times to call or drive with him, but she invariably 
declined on the plea of another engagement. He knew 
these excuses to be entirely untrue, and it took all his 
resolution to ask her again after such point-blank refusals ; 
but he had thoroughly made up his mind that he would 
insist on having his fate decided and the agony of sus- 
pense which he endured ended. 

David could realize with his brain that from a business 
point of view he was a better match than Dr. Houston; 
and as the doctor had given Columba up, as people said, for- 
ever, he was not without some hope of success. If he could 
have read her face occasionally when she thought he was 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


201 


not looking, lie would have found much more reason for 
encouragement. The ability to discern the signs of love, 
however, only comes after long experience in this world, 
and Columba was poor David’s first. 

But, although nothing comes to him who waits, an op- 
portunity can generally be obtained by the man who goes 
after it, and David proved to be no exception to the rule. 

About half-past eight o’clock on Sunday evening, mak- 
ing his usual pilgrimage to the shrine of his lady-love, he 
found Columba alone on the front gallery. There was a 
song service that evening at the Methodist Church, and 
the entire household had gone, except herself and her in- 
valid father, who was asleep in a back room upstairs. It 
is remarkable how much more religious we become when 
we live in the family with a preacher. 

Wonderful to relate, Columba was very lively that even- 
ing. She spoke of the Fair which was to open the next 
day with much enthusiasm. In fact, she carried the 
greater part of the weight of the conversation, because 
David was so full of the avowal which he came to make 
that there was no room in his soul for any other idea. 

Theoretically, he desired to lead up to the topic grad- 
ually, and he had many times arranged in this thoughts 
graceful methods of asking his sweetheart to become his 
wife. But, somehow, when the moment arrived to put his 
theories into practice, none of them seemed to be ade- 
quate. 

He several times tried to turn the conversation into the 
paths of sentiment, but she frustrated his feeble attempts 
in the easiest possible manner, and continued to discuss 
the Fair and the ball, and anything else in the world which 
was the most remote from the matter which filled all his 
being. 

In the meantime David knew that time was flying, and 


202 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


that the return of the church-goers would soon end his 
chances for that night. He was absolutely determined to 
have it over with then and there; and yet I know 1 that if 
some random caller had arrived and broken up the con- 
versation he would have been greatly relieved. 

The clock struck the half hour, which informed him 
that the song service had already lasted much longer than 
usual, and that the family might be expected at any minute. 

He set his teeth in desperation. 

“Miss Columba,” he stammered, interrupting one of 
her most lively sentences, “I — I — came here — to tell you — 
I — I love you.” 

For several minutes nothing was said on either side, 
and when Columba at last broke the silence, her voice 
sounded strange and wild. 

“Mr. Elmore,” she said, “I — I don’t believe it. You — 
you don’t. I don’t — You can’t.” 

He gathered some courage from her evident embarrass- 
ment. 

“But I do, I do. I love you better than my life.” 

“But I don’t care — I am not going to — I won’t ” 

And starting suddenly to her feet, she ran into the 
house and disappeared from view up the front stairs. 

Poor David! Poor David! 

An older man, who had gathered some experience in 
woman's ways, and who was possessed with the firm con- 
viction that any woman upon whom he bestowed his 
lordly preference would be not only willing, but anxious; 
such a man would have been charmed by similar conduct 
on the part of the favored girl, and would have asked her 
again as soon as possible. Dr. Houston asked Columba to 
marry him almost every time he saw her, and she always 
laughed at him, unless she happened to be in a bad hu- 
mor, when she abused him. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


203 


But David went home feeling that the universe had 
exploded, and that the stars were rattling down upon his 
devoted head. He would gladly have abandoned his life 
then and there, simply because there was for him no 
earthly reason why he should live any longer. How could 
he tell, poor hoy, that Columba cried herself to sleep that 
night? He had as little hope of winning her hand as he 
had of gaining Orion for his possession. 

He made no attempt to sleep, himself, but sat and 
watched the moon sink slowly to the west, and years after- 
wards, as it seemed to him, he saw the rosy dawn flushing 
the eastern sky and the sun rise upon a world, where he 
felt that for him the sun of life could never shine again. 

Poor David! Poor David! 


204 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER XXI. 

“but not for love.” 

T HE business houses of Judithland had almost all 
agreed to close at twelve o’clock on the opening day 
of the Fair, in order to give their employes an op- 
portunity to visit this great amusement bazaar. As Colo- 
nel Elmore was the president of the Fair Association, he 
had announced that the bank would be closed all day on 
Monday, and David had promised his father to sell tickets 
at the grounds during the forenoon. 

He felt that it was almost impossible for him to carry 
out this engagement, but his sensitive nature prompted 
him to hide his anguish in his own bosom, and therefore 
he made his toilet and appeared at the breakfast-table at 
the usual hour. After eating scarcely anything, but drink- 
ing several cups of strong coffee, he obtained his father’s 
horse and buggy from the stable and drove rapidly to the 
Fair Grounds, taking a boy with him to bring the convey- 
ance back for the use of other members of his family, who 
were to come out later. 

It was a beautiful day, arid the cool, clear weather which 
had succeeded the rain of the previous week promised a 
successful Fair, so far as the elements could contribute to 
make it so. Although cool weather was not exactly 
adapted to advance the condition of the cotton crop, on 
which the prosperity of the South principally depends, yet 


WINGS AND NO EYES 205 

it was extremely grateful and invigorating to man and 
beast after the long, hot summer. 

The Fair Grounds were located about half a mile from 
the outskirts of Judithland, where a bubbling spring af- 
forded an ample supply of pure water for the use of the 
race horses and the stock exhibits. 

Surrounding the grounds and stretching away into the 
distance as far as one could see were cotton fields, inter- 
spersed here and there with patches of com. On the lat- 
ter the withered stalks stood mournfully; for, having per- 
formed their mission in this world and transmitted their 
excellence to their posterity, there remained nothing more 
for them but to die and be forgotten. 

The cotton plants, however, still displayed a vigorous 
life. The foliage was slightly wilted by the cool morning 
air, but the pink and yellow blossoms and the still forming 
squares promised an abundant top crop, if the sun was 
propitious and furnished the heat necessary for its perfec- 
tion. 

Lower down on the plant the opening bolls displayed 
their snowy whiteness like tips of foam upon a dark green 
sea, and they seemed to cry aloud for the hand of the 
picker. But unfortunately it was Monday, besides being 
chilly, and it is a general characteristic of the thriftless- 
ness of country negroes that, after working for a year 
to produce a crop, in harvest time they still insist upon 
having three days’ rest out of seven, and they ride joy- 
ously off to town or sit idly by and watch the fleecy locks 
of cotton hanging from the bolls, when a heavy rain may 
destroy half the fruit of their labor for twelve months. 

David passed many exhibits on their way to the Fair. 

Here was a wagon-load of fancy poultry, each pair in. 
its coop; and the roosters’ challenge to combat was flung 

from cage t9 cage as if t hey were delighted to shew that an 


206 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


unfavorable environment had no effect upon their bellig- 
erent propensities. 

Now he overtook a drove of prize-winning polled Angus, 
more like elephants than cattle, waddling along at a slow 
pace, as a due precaution against dissipating any valuable 
fat by exercise. 

The swine exhibit was hauled with much grunting and 
squealing from its younger members. The older hogs, 
however, were so oppressed with lardaceous tissue that 
squealing was for them entirely too much exertion, and 
they only expressed their disapprobation at some unusual 
jolt on the road by mild grunts. 

A half-grown colt gazed at the world from the top of 
a crate, perched high on other goods in an express wagon. 
He had a quizzical expression upon his countenance, as if 
he considered it a good joke that those funny men should 
move him so slowly in such an undignified fashion along 
a road which his own active legs were not only willing, but 
anxious to cover in one-third of the time. 

The four-legged man tramped sullenly along in com- 
pany with the human Fly, and with his two extra legs done 
up in brown paper on his shoulder. The Fly was now 
walking disconsolately on the ground, head up instead of 
down, and suffering from the unallayed demands of a 
healthy appetite, for their previous stand had been a bad 
one, and breakfast that morning had been lacking. 

An Arab girl from “The Streets of Cairo” had struck up 
an acquaintance with the proprietor of the flying horses 
and was now riding gracefully on top of a wagon-load of 
wooden steeds, bandying jokes with her fellows as she 
passed, in full rich tones which sounded remarkably Irish. 

On reaching the Fair grounds, David busied himself in 
arranging the box office and assorting his change, so as to 
be ready for business. After this was accomplished he 


207 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

found the time hang heavily upon his hands, for the peo- 
ple of Judithland generally only came out in the after- 
noon, and the few customers that he had were countrymen 
with their wives and children, who had come in to make 
a day of it. 

If David had been completely employed all the fore- 
noon his trouble might have been somewhat alleviated, 
because constant work is the best remedy for heart disease 
of his kind. His idle morning, however, allowed his 
somber thoughts to have full scope, and the exhaustion 
due to his sleepless night added to the blackness of his 
meditations. 

He felt the utter futility of attempting to exist without 
Columba, and he brooded over the idea that there was no 
possible reason why he should continue to live on the 
earth any longer. Perhaps she might shed a tear over his 
grave and be sorry for a little while, and he found some 
consolation in the thought. 

Although self-destruction seemed to be his only remain- 
ing recourse, yet it is one thing to decide that you ought 
to kill yourself and quite a different matter to carry it 
out in practice; and so, when two o’clock slowly came and 
David turned over the ticket office to his successor, his 
meditations stopped with the theory, which he had no 
intention of executing. 

But when he had finished the transfer of his tickets and 
money, and looked again from the window of the office, 
he saw the woman he loved, who had left him, as it seemed, 
a thousand years before, looking remarkably fresh and 
beautiful, in a buggy with Dr. Houston, just pausing in 
front of the carriage gate to the Fair. Neither looked at 
David, although both were conscious of his presence; and, 
as the doctor was already provided with tickets, they soon 
disappeared inside the inclosure. 


208 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


Now this was too much. 

It was bad enough to give up all hope of obtaining Co- 
lumba, but to see her bestow herself upon another man 
was more than sufficient to cause David’s cup of misery 
to overflow all around. Besides, when every nerve in his 
body was shrieking with anguish, it seemed so utterly 
heartless that she could be able to be lively and gay, and 
he rushed frantically from the ticket office with the single 
desire of finding a means of ending his own life. 

When we are young and experience such troubles for 
the first time, they appear like giant forms in our path, 
and there seems to remain no possible escape for us in 
this world. When we are old, although our misfortunes 
are still hard to bear, yet we can look back on many 
similar waters of bitterness from which we drank, and 
of which we have almost forgotten the taste; and we are 
sure that we can live down the present infliction in the 
same way. 

David would not go towards the grand stand, because he 
knew that Columba was there; and he made his way for 
no particular reason towards the center of the racetrack, 
where the hot-air balloon was being inflated for the 
much-advertised ascension. And that old Serpent, who is 
always lying in wait for the time when a temptation will 
have its surest effect, met him there in the guise of Jacobs, 
who had been employed to take charge of the amusements 
during the Fair. 

Jacobs was a stranger in Judithland; but, Colonel El- 
more being president of the Fair Association, David had 
become quite well acquainted with him in the two or 
three weeks just passed. 

“ We’re in the devil of a fix, Mr. Elmore,” Jacobs said. 
“That scoundrel Timothy, -who makes the balloon ascen- 
sions, has gone and got dnmjc. I’ve offered twenty del- 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


209 


lars to any of the other men to go, hut they’re all afraid. 
The ascension was the strong card for to-day, and people 
will he devilish mad if it’s left out.” 

While Jacobs was speaking, David was rapidly think- 
ing. Why should he not make the ascension himself? 
Somewhat the same feeling which prompted him to climb 
the pear tree when a little hoy now came over him. He 
would show Columha what a brave man she had lost; 
and if he happened to fall off, which he expected, he 
would be relieved from the agony of existence in the most 
expeditious manner, and would be remembered as a hero 
and not as a suicide. To be sure he would have preferred 
that she should understand that he killed himself on her 
account. But, after all, she would know that her conduct 
had driven him to do a deed of desperate courage, and 
perhaps it would be better so. 

“I will make the ascension myself, Mr. Jacobs,” he said, 
quietly, but with his heart somewhere in his throat. Al- 
though he was thoroughly resolved, he could not help the 
feeling, and his voice sounded strange and distant in his 
own ears. 

“What, you, Mr. Elmore!” Jacobs exclaimed. “The 
devil you say. You can’t do it, can you?” 

“Oh, yes, I can,” replied David, gathering more cour- 
age as he spoke. “I am considerable of an athlete, and I 
have always wanted to go up in a balloon.” 

“But you’d get dizzy and break your neck.” 

“No, I won’t. I can hold on to anything that anybody 
else can.” 

“But your father would jump on me with both feet. I’d 
hate like the devil to make him mad.” 

“You need not tell him that you knew anything about 
it. You can be busy somewhere else on the grounds, anci 


210 WINGS AND NO EYES 

I will tell him that I found the man drunk and took his 
place.” 

“Well, Mr. Elmore, it’s your Fair and not mine. I’d dev- 
ilish hate for the people to miss the ascension on the 
first day, and if you want to take the chances you can, I 
reckon. But don’t forget that it ain’t my fault if any- 
thing happens.” 

Columba had been quiet and amiable all that morning; 
and when Dr. Houston had asked her over the telephone 
to go out to the Fair with him, she had consented will- 
ingly, and with a slight caressing tone in her voice. 
When a woman loves and knows that she is beloved, she 
is apt to shed the love-light upon the bystanders, even 
when hiding it from the object of her affection. 

Indeed, she listened to the doctor so sweetly, although 
she said little herself, that he considered his prospects 
much better than ever before; and he resolved to ask her 
again as they drove home together. Neither mentioned 
the quarrel which they had had when they last parted. 
Such unpleasant matters are best left behind in the silence 
of space, as the earth pursues its swift revolving course 
around its controlling star. 

The grand stand was comfortably filled that Monday af- 
ternoon, and the people were getting impatient. The bal- 
loon ascension had been advertised for half-past two 
o’clock, to be followed by horse races; and it was now 
after three, and, although the balloon was inflated and 
waiting, the aeronaut had not yet made his appearance. 
The pleasure-seekers were beginning to feel that they were 
being defrauded of a large part of their fun. 

About half-past three, however, the balloonist came out 
of one of the tents attired in the conventional tights. He 
took his place slowly upon the trapeze of his airship, and, 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


211 


giving the signal to east off, he rose with rapidity toward 
the clouds. Many people remarked that, unlike most of 
his kind, he ascended with his back towards the spectators. 

A light breeze carried the balloon in a northerly di- 
rection, so that it continued in plain sight of all the 
company in the grand stand. 

“ Don’t you hate to see a man do anything like that?” 
said Columba. “Don’t you think he must be awfully 
afraid?” 

“Oh, I reckon not, Miss Columba,” Dr. Houston re- 
turned, laughing. “That fellow goes up hundreds of times 
every year. He is just as much at home on that trapeze up 
in the air as you are in your own parlor.” 

“But don’t they ever get killed? I should think they 
would get dizzy and fall off.” 

“They get killed once in a while, when the parachute 
happens to come down on a tree or a house. But, of 
course, a man has to take some chances to make a living. 
I don’t suppose their mortality is very much higher than 
that of railroad engineers.” 

“Oh, he’s hanging by his legs, Dr. Houston,” she cried, 
excitedly. “Lend me your glasses, please. I want to look 
at him.” 

A moment later she fell senseless at his feet. 

David seated himself upon the wooden bar which was 
to carry him to eternity, and after a brief pause ordered the 
attendants by a wave of his hand to unloose the ropes 
which held the balloon. As they were stablemen, arrived 
in Judit'hland only that morning, they did not know that 
he was an amateur. 

He would have given worlds for a last look at Columba, 
but, knowing that she was with his rival, he turned his 
back towards her. 


212 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


He saw the men untie the knots which hound him to 
life with a strange feeling, in which two opposing im- 
pulses struggled for mastery. 

His soul insisted that it could not and would not 
continue to exist to see its loved one bestow herself upon 
another man. 

His body cried out to him that life was good, and begged 
and pleaded with him not to destroy it in the strength 
of its youth. 

And he himself, holding the balance between the two, 
gave the signal to cast off. 

A sudden jerk, and the earth fell away from him. It 
seemed to have lost its support in space, and to be rapidly 
falling to destruction. The men who left him grew small- 
er and smaller. He heard a faint sound of applause, 
which quickly died away. Now the racetrack appeared 
like a boy’s marble ring, on which toy horses were exercis- 
ing themselves. And the circle of his horizon grew larger. 

He became filled with a weird sense of exultation. 
What a brave man he was ! Weak from his boyhood, and 
lacking opportunity for displaying his courage, he had 
at times feared that he was a coward. But now he knew 
better, and the world would know it also. And he hung 
by his legs in sheer bravado. 

And Columba! How sorry she would be that she had 
cast off such a hero. How she would weep when they 
brought his mangled body to her. But he would not be 
there to see. His crushed corpse would be there, but 
where would he be? He could not tell. He grew dizzy 
as he glanced down from his appalling height, and he 
shut his eyes to keep out the sight. 

Where would he be? Where was the suicide’s place? 
In hell through all eternity? He had heard little of hell 
from the pulpit in late years, but the recollection of his 



“But Not for Love” 


V : 






WINGS AND NO EYES 


213 


childhood’s teaching came over him. Could he hear to 
go there? Yet it could not he worse than life without his 
love, and there might be no such place. No, decidedly, 
he would chance it. 

Opening his eyes before taking the fatal plunge, he saw 
the town of Judithland spread out before him like a map. 

He saw his home, where he had passed so many happy 
days. Was he never to see it again? He saw them carry 
home a disfigured mass which had been himself, and he 
saw his mother in tears, and oh, such tears, such an agony 
of tears. Could he treat his mother so? How many nights 
she had nursed him during sickness; carefully, kindly, pa- 
tiently. And he was about to repay her love by sending 
her a suicide’s remains. 

Could he treat his mother so? Never! Better a thou- 
sand years of torture than to cause her to shed such tears. 
He clutched frantically at a rope which hung near him. 

It was well for David that, feeling the rope give in his 
hands, he abandoned it and grasped the bar of the trapeze. 
He had hardly done so when a rushing wind filled his ears, 
followed by a loud clap as the parachute expanded and a 
sudden jerk, which nearly wrenched him from his hold. 
He could never tell how he came to the ground. An indis- 
tinct impression that he had been struck by lightning 
during a violent windstorm was all that his memory re- 
tained. But when men from the Fair reached the spot 
where the parachute landed they found David feebly at- 
tempting to disencumber himself from its folds, much 
shaken in spirit, but sound in body and limb. 

Are you not disgusted, fair reader? Mentally fed, as 
yom have been in your fiction, upon the sweets of blood 
and carnage, you must think it simply outrageous that 
the only opportunity thus far in the story for a tragedy 
should end in such an anti-climax as that. 


214 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


Would you have thought more of David, however, if he 
had carried out his purpose? It is, of course, generally 
considered to he the hero’s business to kill somebody. And 
as this is absolutely necessary, it is much more altruistic 
for him to slay himself than to go off and murder some one 
else, who possibly might not care to be killed at all. 

But who said David was a hero, anyhow? I am sure I 
did not. He may have thought so himself for a few min- 
utes, but he speedily found out his mistake. 

And, after all, do you know any heroes, outside of 
books, 1 mean? You are doubtless sure, male reader, that 
you have latent heroic qualities yourself; but, unfortu- 
nately, the surroundings of a dry goods store have only 
allowed their development heretofore in theory. But what 
do you think of the clerk at the next counter? What! you 
say. That little, red-headed, freckle-faced, bow-legged 
Dutchman! He’s no hero! Exactly so. That is the point 
I wish to make. Now what do you suppose he thinks of 
you? 

Please excuse me, gentle maiden. I am sure that it is 
useless to tell you that Edgar is not a hero, because you 
know better. But you just wait until you have been mar- 
ried to Edgar for about five years, and if you still think 
that he is a hero, I will apologize, in writing if you wish, 
and think better of the permanence of romantic love for- 
ever after. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


215 


CHAPTER XXII. 

JOHN COBBS TO THE RESCUE. 

JUDITH COUNTY FAIR ASSOCIATION. 

GRAND BULL EIGHT! 

Tuesday, September 15. 

REAL BULLS ! 

IMPORTED SPANISH TOREADORS ! ! 

The managers of the Fair take pleasure in announcing 
that they have secured at great expense for one day only 
the services of a celebrated company of bull fighters re- 
cently arrived from Spain, who will give a realistic exhibi- 
tion of the bull ring exactly as conducted in Madrid. Noth- 
ing in the performance can offend the most refined or culti- 
vated taste. 

Performance commences promptly at 3 p. m. 

come one! come all! 

Tuesday, September 15. 

Muerte a los Toros. 

The progress which our friend J ohn Cobbs had made in 
winning the affections of the great authoress during the 
three weeks which had passed since the house-party did 
not appear noticeable. He had been handicapped, it is 


216 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

true, by the fact that the early closing agreement of the 
stores of Judithland had terminated August 31, which 
compelled him to do all his courting on Sundays. To be 
sure, Gwendolyn had given him a standing invitation to 
spend the Sabbath at her home whenever he chose, and 
as soon as his ankle became sufficiently well, he had availed 
himself of this permission and had passed two Sundays in 
her company. 

The authoress speedily decided that she would give her 
suitor a name more in keeping with his position as an 
aspirant for the hand of Lady Gwendolyn Rowena Mont- 
morency. As this was an important matter, however, she 
wished to take sufficient time to consider it properly, and 
until his new title was in readiness she addressed him by 
the name which was painted on the sign over his store. 
This greatly wounded her artistic sensibilities, but for the 
present she felt that she must endure it. 

At the time of the present chapter her search for a name 
had been narrowed down to two, which were: Sir Morti- 
mer Eitzure DeCunningham and Lord Reginald Yladimer 
Orsinoe. Between these two she wavered, first deciding 
on one and then on the other, and then returning to the 
first again, and she could not make up her mind which to 
choose. 

On the subject of matrimony her point of view seemed 
to be diametrically opposed to that of our energetic busi- 
ness man. John continually insisted that she should 
marry him right away, and he persistently returned to the 
subject, no matter how frequently she diverted the con- 
versation. 

Gwendolyn was sure that a man who could not be taught 
to make love properly could never learn how to be a good 
husband. She made any amount of fun of his methods, 
and when he became very much determined that he would 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


217 


have a favorable answer, she always fell back upon the 
fact, which he could not deny, that he had not saved her 
life. 

He generally grew angry when she entrenched herself in 
this position, as he saw no prospect of overcoming the ob- 
struction, and declared that he didn’t care, anyhow; that 
there were plenty more girls in the world. But whenever 
he retired she advanced and coaxed him out of his sulky 
mood and the whole business recommenced. 

However, John had really no idea of giving her up, 
because two hundred thousand dollars cash and thirty 
thousand a year were not to be picked up every day ; and 
then, of course, he knew that she wanted to marry him. 
How could she help it? And, indeed, the evident pleasure 
which she took in the affair would have encouraged a much 
less sanguine man than John Cobbs. 

He asked Gwendolyn to go with him to the Fair on 
Monday, but she declined on the ground that she could 
not bear to see a man risk his life so uselessly in a balloon. 
She had a similar objection to the performance of Tues- 
day, and it was only after John had ascertained that the 
bulls were to be destroyed in the same manner as the vil- 
lains in Gwendolyn’s novels — that is, in the imaginations 
of the spectators — that she would consent to go with him. 

And so, after lunch at Castle Montmorency, we find this 
couple driving along the road to Judithland about half- 
past two o’clock on the day of the grand bull fight. 

“I say, Lady,” John remarked, “have you heard the 
news ?” 

“I haven’t seen anybody from town to-day except you, 
and you haven’t told me anything new.” 

“Well, I ain’t had time to get ’round to it. Can’t talk 
about another fellow’s monkey show ’fore my own, can I? 
That wouldn’t be business, you know.” 


218 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“But tell me about it now/’ the authoress returned. “I 
am just dying to hear something new. Has anybody run 
away and got married?” 

“No, they ain’t, yet,” John responded, with a self-sat- 
isfied grin. “But I bet you a dollar to a nickel that I run 
off with you some of these fine mornings.” 

“Now, Mr. Cobbs, this will not do at all,” said Gwendo- 
lyn, smiling, nevertheless. “I told you positively when I 
promised to go with you Sunday that you were not to 
mention the subject of matrimony once to-day, and hero 
you’ve done nothing but talk about it ever since we left 
home.” 

“Oh, you know, Lady, a girl just says those things. You 
don’t mean it, of course. You like it all right. You’re 
built that wav.” 

“Indeed I do mean it, Mr. Cobbs, but if you will insist 
I suppose I can’t help it. But you haven’t told me your 
news.” 

“Why, our friend Davy got gay yesterday, and went up 
in the balloon ’stead of the balloon man, and I’ll be — no, 
I mean he hung by his legs way up there in the air. I 
couldn’t of done it no better myself.” 

“Oh, Mr. Cobbs! You don’t mean Mr. Elmore? How 
awful! Was he killed? What did he do it for?” 

“You can’t prove it by me, Lady. I don’t reckon he 
knows himself. I supposed, of course, he had a good stiff 
bet on it, but nobody knows nothing about it, so I reckon 
it ain’t so. A fellow don’t win a big pot that way and 
then keep it dark.” 

“But how about Mr. Elmore? Was he hurt much?” 

“Hurt? No. He warn’t hurt at all. Kind of shaken 
up, that’s all. Didn’t get downtown this morning, though. 
I asked old man Elmore about him, and he said he was all 
hunkey. Funny, though. Little C’lumby at our house 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


219 


was hurt worse than Dave was. People say she just keeled 
right over when the balloon went up and they had to 
carry her to a hack. She ain’t been downstairs all day. I 
warn’t on the grand stand when she keeled over, so I didn’t 
see her.” 

"I’m real glad I didn’t go yesterday/’ said Gwendolyn. 
"I believe I would have fainted, too.” 

John looked at the great authoress with some appre- 
hension. 

“You don’t often do it, do you?” he asked. “ ’Cause if 
you do, just let me know in time to get a bracer ’forehand. 
Think I’d need it, sho.” 

Gwendolyn smiled. 

“You are a funny kind of a man, Mr. Cobbs,” she said. 
“How can you expect me to marry you if you can’t sup- 
port me? And you know that the hero always carries the 
heroine off, whenever it is necessary. I am sure that Dr. 
Houston would have carried Columba to the carriage if he 
had been there.” 

“He did that same thing, Lady, and that’s a fact. But 
little C’lumby and you are two mighty different proposi- 
tions. I reckon you can’t have too much of a good thing, 
though.” 

Gwendolyn smiled again, but she did not reply. John’s 
remarks had started her active imagination into vigorous 
movement. How superb it would be in her next novel to 
have the hero and the villain go up together in a balloon 
and light a battle-ax combat among the clouds. What a 
glorious idea it was, and how entirely original. Nothing 
at all like it had ever been done before. And then when 
virtue triumphed, as usual, and hurled the miscreant to 
eternity, how dramatic would be the scene when the hero, 
bending over the side of the car, would watch the ignoble 
corpse grow smaller and smaller until it was dashed in 


220 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


pieces on the earth; and then, rising to his feet, in clarion 
tones would defy the universe from a height of sublimity 
to which a character in a historical novel had never hith- 
erto ascended. 

Oh, it would be grand, grand. What a wonderful genius 
she was. She was filled with awe when she contemplated 
the greatness of her own mind. 

Indeed, she was so absorbed in admiration of the intel- 
lect which she possessed that she scarcely saw the crowd 
around the gate to the Fair Grounds, where John stopped 
to deliver his tickets, and was only aroused from her rev- 
erie when he jumped from the buggy and offered his hand 
to assist her in alighting, with the remark: 

“Here we are, Lady. You’re mighty quiet all of a sud- 
den.” 

As they walked towards the grand stand they were sur- 
rounded by a company of fakirs, who each offered his 
wares with the same zeal which a congressman displays 
in exploiting a conquered archipelago. 

“Popcorn, Mister? Popcorn, Mister?” 

“Get a balloon and be in the swim.” 

“You must have a souvenir cane. Only ten cents.” 

“Here’s your peanuts. Five cents a package.” 

A tall man, some fifteen feet high, attired in the starry, 
striped costume which typifies your Uncle Sam, was stand- 
ing near the entrance to one of the canvas booths. His 
expansion was entirely in his lungs and his legs, and, like 
his prototype, his brag was his strong point while his out- 
lying dependencies were his weak ones. 

He was now quoting poetry in stentorian tones. 

“Oh me. Oh my. 

“Did you ever see a lady fly V * 

The next tent displayed a gaudy picture of the four- 
legged man, ambling gracefully around a tawdry parlor, 


WINGS AND NO EYES 221 

while his exhibitor endeavored to attract customers by 
calling out: 

“How many legs have you got? 

“How many legs have you got? 

“I ? ve got four legs. 

“How many legs have you got?” 

This man’s costume on his right side displayed a vivid 
red, while his left was clad in an equally brilliant green. 
His face was colored to match, the line of demarkation 
passing between his eyes down the bridge of his nose. His 
sleeves were puffed very full, and every now and then his 
right hand, by some concealed mechanism, would shoot 
out about ten feet over the heads of the crowd and then 
return to him again. 

But the blandishments of these showmen were of no 
avail at this time, because the bull fight was about to 
commence, and all the sightseers were hurrying toward 
the grand stand, to which Gwendolyn and John went also. 

A temporary bull ring had been constructed by stretch- 
ing stout wire netting from fence to fence of the race- 
track at each end of the grand stand and placing two bar- 
riers on either side near the center, behind which the 
toreros could take refuge when too closely pressed by the 
infuriated animal. 

The chulos , with their scarlet-colored banners, had 
already appeared in the ring when our friends arrived. 
Although guaranteed by the management to be the gen- 
uine European article, their swarthy complexions betrayed 
their Toltec blood, and it is my candid opinion that they 
had never been any closer to Spain than the City of Mex- 
ico. However, they were attired in gaily embroidered 
jackets and knee breeches, with brilliant colored sashes; 
and, although somewhat ragged and dirty, they were 
nevertheless eminently satisfying to the visitors. 


222 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


After some preliminary leaping of the barriers and other 
gymnastic exercises by the chulos , the bull was led to the 
gate by four men with ropes attached to his horns, and 
the ferocious animal was loosened in the arena, where he 
stood stupidly gazing at the scene before him. 

The posters called him a bull, so of course it must be 
so; but, except for his half-grown horns, judging from 
its size, I should have called him a calf. However, he 
must have been a very dangerous beast, because about 
half of his horns had been sawn off and the stumps were 
adorned with large gilt balls, in order to prevent him 
from murdering his adversaries. 

One of the chulos now approached him warily, and the 
onlookers held their breath. Pictures of bull fights where 
the furious quadruped rushed headlong after his rash 
antagonist rose before each mind. But somehow the rush 
was a failure. The chulo waved his banner. The bull 
looked at him. The man came closer and tried again. 
The bull blinked his eyes two or three times, looked bored 
and then yawned. The performance was not affording 
him much amusement. The chulo now flapped his ban- 
ner in the animaFs face, which caused him to shake his 
head in a displeased fashion, and then continue his stolid 
stare. 

But some one came to the gate behind the bull and hit 
him a resounding blow with a buggy whip. Naturally he 
did not approve of this. He was willing enough to stay 
there to be stared at, although it did not interest him to 
any great extent; but to be beaten did not suit him at all, 
and he trotted rapidly around the enclosure seeking an 
avenue of escape. 

This appeared to be what the bull fighters were expect- 
ing, for they darted to and fro in front of the frightened 
animal, waving their banners and gesticulating, until he 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


223 


finally came to a stand in the center of the ring, appar- 
ently at a loss to know which way to turn. 

And now the banderillero appeared with self-satisfied 
mien and stately tread. You know that in the real thing 
the banderillas are small barbed darts which the bander - 
illero implants in el toro as he charges, and then escapes 
as best he can. In our more enlightened country, how- 
ever, the points to the darts were necessarily omitted, as 
were also the picador es on the horses which the bulls are 
allowed to gore, in order to sate an insistent popular de- 
mand for blood. 

The banderillero calmly took his place at the proper 
distance in front of the bull and held out his darts gayly 
decorated with orange-colored streamers. One could see 
from his fearless bearing that he was rapidly qualifying 
himself for the important position of matador. 

According to the rules of the game, as soon as the ban- 
derillero appears, the bull must lower his head and rush 
madly at him, regardless of consequences. But our toro 
did not play fair. He was somewhat tired in the first 
place, and then besides he had not the slightest objection 
to the man standing there, and he obstinately refused to 
budge. In vain the chulos flapped their flags at him and 
beat him in the face with them. He declined to charge, 
and the spectators were beginning to laugh. Something 
must be done. 

Two of the chulos went behind the animal and at- 
tempted to push him forward by main force, when a feat- 
ure of the performance took place which was not adver- 
tised on the showbills. 

There was a gate which opened from the narrow walk in 
front of the grand stand to the racetrack; and, as fre- 
quently happens, its fastenings were imperfect. Some 


224 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


small boys climbing on the fence loosened it and it sud- 
denly swung wide open. 

The bull, seeing a way of escape from his tormentors 
thus provided, ran rapidly through it, and the crowd on 
the walk naturally dividing, he continued up one of the 
flights of steps to the grand stand, while the panic-stricken 
people fled in every direction. 

John and Gwendolyn were seated at some little distance 
from the entrance up which the danger was approaching. 
He had been making many satirical comments upon the 
progress of the combat, but with the prescience of genius, 
w'hen the bull started up the steps, he realized that his 
hour was come. Having the advantage of the elevation, 
it would be a comparatively easy matter for an active man 
to take such a small bull by the horns, and it would 
amply fill his requirement for saving Gwendolyn’s life, 
and get him a good notice in the newspaper besides. 

To think was to act. Springing to his feet, he ran to- 
wards the passage up which the bull was approaching. 

And now drew near the battle of the giants. 

When Hector rushed with flaming sword upon the 
heaven-born Achilles, think you he felt a tremor? When 
the young lion roared against Samson and he rent him 
with his hands, did fear enter his bosom? Even so cour- 
ageously the god-like John Cobbs hastens towards his ad- 
versary. 

But, alas! stem Fate has power to balk even the gods in 
their career, and how can a mortal contend against her ? 

As John with soul on fire advances to the contest, a 
stout woman with spirit quenched frantically retreats. 
And if an irresistible force meets an immovable body there 
is bound to be a smash. 

John recovered himself as soon as possible and contin- 
ued his course, but when he reached the avenue of peril 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


225 


his opportunity had almost passed. However, if he could not 
seize the hull by the horns he at least caught him by the 
tail; but the sudden cross jerk, combined with his rapid 
forward movement, landed John on his back, while the 
frightened animal took refuge behind a lunch counter in 
the refreshment-room at the top of the building. 

John Cobbs picked himself up, and, finding no bones 
broken, he returned somewhat crestfallen to the side of 
his sweetheart. But that young woman’s organism was of 
entirely too sensitive a nature to stand such a shock with 
impunity, and as Miss Zenobia had come to the Fair in 
the carriage, she departed for home at once with her aunt, 
leaving her admirer to rub his sore bones and recover from 
his mortification as best he might. 


226 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE LIGHT FANTASTIC TOE. 

I T was Horace Layton who went to the ball with 
Gwendolyn. 

John Cobbs asked her to go at the same time that 
he requested her company to the Fair, but she very prop- 
erly declined to go out with him twice with such a short 
interval between. It might make people think that they 
were engaged, without a sufficient amount of maidenly 
hesitation on her part. 

This great social event took place in the hall of the 
engine house on Thursday evening during Fair week. 
Gwendolyn came to town to spend the night with Columba 
Wilmot, and as neither she nor Horace had anything in 
the world to do that evening, it could not be expected 
that they should dress in time. In fact, they reached the 
assembly-room as the concluding strains of the first waltz 
were dying away, nearly half an hour after Columba and 
Dr. Houston had arrived. 

This was the largest ball that Judithland had ever seen. 
There were some twenty-five couples dancing, besides quite 
a number of married people looking on. For you are not to 
suppose, philosophical reader, because the story concerns 
itself with only a few people that there were no more in 
Judithland as refined and interesting or in any way dis- 
qualified to walk upon the stage in a play of this kind. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


227 


Most assuredly not. They all had their loves, and their 
hates, and I could easily introduce them to you. But as 
the time which you have to spend in company with our 
characters is not long, if you meet too many people you 
would have no opportunity to become well acquainted 
with any, and therefore the remaining inhabitants of the 
little city shall be kept to march and countermarch across 
the background like Roman soldiers, and only occasionally 
be given speaking parts of a few words each. 

The meeting-room of the volunteer fire brigade had 
been decorated for the occasion with festoons of colored 
bunting. On the rostrum, where the dignified chief usu- 
ally presided, three ebony-hued fiddlers were now seated, 
who fingered their instruments with a loving touch, as if 
they begrudged every moment which was not spent in 
vibrating the air with their lively music. 

As Horace and Gwendolyn entered they found near the 
door a little group composed of almost all our acquaint- 
ances in this story. 

Even David Elmore was there, though it must be con- 
fessed with much unwillingness. David was overcome 
with shame at the termination of his escapade, and would 
gladly have hidden his face from his friends for all time, 
as he had during the three days just past. After believing 
that he was such a brave man, the humiliation of finding 
himself a coward seemed to be more than he could bear, 
and he could not realize that other people would regard 
him from a different point of view. 

He did not know that the man who destroys himself is 
the coward, while the brave man lives to overcome his 
enemies and to remove obstructions from his path. 

David only made up his mind to go to the ball at the 
last minute. Of course, he would have to face his friends 
some day, and so he suddenly determined to go and get 


228 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


through with it all in one evening, and he entered the 
room a short time in advance of Horace and Gwendolyn. 
In his morbid condition he fully expected to he laughed at 
unmercifully, and he was entirely unprepared for the re- 
ception which awaited him. 

Before David’s arrival, John Cobbs had posed as the 
hero of the evening; for, although his audacious enterprise 
had ended so unfortunately, yet even to take an infuriated 
bull by the tail was something, and he had a great deal to 
say about what he would have done had it not been for 
his unforeseen interruption. 

But when David came in John’s laurels suddenly wilted, 
while almost all the merry-makers gathered around to be- 
stow wreaths of praise upon the young aeronaut. It is 
true that the older people thought his adventure a fool- 
hardy affair, and were thankful that he had escaped un- 
harmed. But the younger ones all glorified him as a hero, 
and his hand was shaken and his courage admired until 
he was ready to sink through the floor, and was almost 
as anxious to evade the flattery of his friends as he pre- 
viously had been to avoid their ridicule. 

There was one person present, however, whom David 
longed, yet feared to see; but who persistently remained in 
the background; and it was not until the crowd around 
him began to thin out that he perceived Columba seated in 
a far corner with Dr. Houston. 

The doctor had come to a painful realization this week. 
Columba’s fainting when she saw David on the trapeze 
attached to the balloon and certain words which she ut- 
tered when her senses began to return proved to him, be- 
yond the shadow of a doubt, that the woman whom he 
loved had bestowed her affections upon another. 

Now, with many men, and very properly, too, such a 
discovery would have caused a withdrawal from the race; 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


229 


for one who gives his love ought to he content with noth- 
ing less than love in return. But it was different with 
Dr. Houston. So far from causing him to go more slowly 
in his career, it only made him the more resolved, and he 
was determined that hereafter no slights, affronts, or even 
downright insults should for a single day turn him from 
his course until the prize was won. 

Columba rose finally, and with much hesitation and a 
look of frightened pain on her face she went towards the 
spot where David was standing, and of course the doctor 
followed her. They joined the circle just as Horace and 
Gwendolyn came in. 

“Here are both our heroes?” Horace exclaimed, as soon 
as they arrived. “I tell you Judithland is doing fine these 
days. Two heroes in two days certainly breaks the record 
for cities of our class. You will have to embalm them 
both in your next novel, Lady Gwendolyn. You won’t 
have to go away from home to find characters any more.” 

“ Why, that’s not the kind of heroes people want to read 
about, Mr. Layton,” Gwendolyn responded. “Mr. Elmore 
just went up in the air and came down again by himself. 
He didn’t save any girl’s life, and didn’t even have a fight 
with anybody.” 

“But you must admit, Gwendolyn,” said Rosamond 
Lattimer, somewhat sharply, “that it was a very brave 
thing to do. Mr. Elmore is the bravest man I ever heard 
of in all my life.” 

“Why, of course, Rosamond, of course. I don’t question 
his bravery. But what good did he do? He just fright- 
ened you all out of your wits. I know I should have 
fainted like Columba did if I had been there.” 

“I’ll tell you what good he did, Lady Gwendolyn,” said 
Horace, laughing. “He gave us all something to talk 
about. And here we are discussing Davy right before his 


230 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


face, and he is blushing like a summer sunset. But if you 
don’t think Dave is the right kind of a hero, how about 
Mr. Cobbs? He certainly showed that he was ready to 
lay down his life for his love.” 

“But he did not succeed, Mr. Layton,” returned Gwen- 
dolyn, somewhat haughtily, as she swept onward towards 
the dressing-room. “A hero should never fail in anything 
he attempts.” 

“It warn’t. my fault, Lady,” John called out after the 
retreating authoress, hut she took no notice and soon dis- 
appeared from view. 

“You ain’t getting on a hit with Gwen’lyn, Mr. Cobbs,” 
said Mamye Clay, gleefully. “She’s hopping mad about 
something right now.” 

“I don’t give a — cent whether she’s mad or not,” said 
John, angrily. “If *she wants to do like a fool it don’t 
hurt me none, I reckon.” 

“That’s all very well to talk, Mr. Cobbs, but I know 
you don’t feel that way. There ain’t any man wants to 
have his best girl go oft with another fellow.” 

“Why, I reckon she ain’t the only persimmon on the 
tree. If she won’t have me, Miss Mamye, I’ll marry you.” 

“You better ask me first. How do you know I won’t do 
you like Gwen’lyn?” 

“Well, come dance, anyhow,” he returned, as the fid- 
dlers struck up another waltz. And she whirled away in 
his arms. 

Columba stood listening to this conversation in silence. 
She wished to say something, but whenever she opened 
her mouth a lump seemed to come up in her throat and 
choke her. But she still remained there irresolutely, in 
spite of the hints of the doctor, and when the band began 
to play they were left with only Rosamond and David. 

“It is too warm to dance this evening,” said Rosamond, 


WINGS AND NO EYES 231 

plying her fan vigorously. “ Don’t you think so, Mr. El- 
more ?” 

“This is our waltz, I think. Miss Columba,” Dr. Hous- 
ton remarked at the same time. 

David heard both speeches, and was only too glad to 
have a good opportunity to escape from the ballroom and 
to avoid seeing Columba dance with his successful rival. 

“Come out on the balcony, Miss Rosy,” he said. “It is 
very much cooler out there.” 

As they turned away, Columba succeeded in uttering 
the words which she came there to speak. 

“You must come to see me, Davy,” she said, in a 
strained voice, her face changing to the color of snow. 
After this she went hack to her comer and obstinately re- 
fused to move or speak to Dr. Houston until after the 
waltz was ended and some more of their friends sat down 
beside them. 

“They have made up their quarrel and they are going 
to he married in November,” said Rosamond, with refer- 
ence to the couple from whom they had just parted, as she 
w r ent out of the hall with David. “I had it on good au- 
thority. Columba’s at work on her trousseau now, and 
Dr. Houston goes to see her twice every day. Mrs. Med- 
lock told me so, and you know she only left Mrs. Wilmot’s 
this week. 

David made no reply; indeed, he thought Rosamond’s 
statement to be only too probable; and they sat down at 
one end of the now deserted balcony and for a few minutes 
watched the stars in silence. 

“Father says the Fair is going to he a great success, 
thanks to you, Mr. Elmore,” said Rosamond, finally. “He 
says that, if they had been compelled to leave out the bal- 
loon ascension on Monday, after advertising it so thor- 


232 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


oughly, people would have been disgusted and stayed 
away all the rest of the week.” 

“It was a very brave thing for you to do, Davy,” she 
continued, after a moment’s pause, with a great tender- 
ness in her voice. “But you frightened us all so terribly. 
It was so considerate, though, in you to turn your back to 
the grand stand. If I had recognized you I think it would 
have killed me.” Her voice sank now to a whisper. “If 
you had been killed I don’t know what I should have 
done.” 

She laughed a forced little laugh, and then spoke more 
briskly. 

“But tell me about it, Mr. Elmore,” she said. “You 
must have had a beautiful view up so high in the air. How 
did it feel up there? Wasn’t it nice and cool?” 

To tell the truth, David had no recollection of his sur- 
roundings while on the trapeze, his memory retaining 
only his internal sensations. But as these were not adapted 
to publication, and as he must say something, he was 
somewhat unwillingly compelled to improvise. 

“Why, yes. Miss Rosy,” he said, “it was rather cold. 
My costume was not exactly adapted to cold weather, 
either.” 

“But couldn’t you see a long, long way when you were 
up there? It must have been perfectly lovely.” 

“Yes, I could see a good many miles. It was a very 
fine view.” 

“Tell me how you happened to think about going,” she 
said. “Was the man willing for you to take his place?” 

“Why, he was drunk. I found him lying behind one 
of the tents, and as I didn’t want the Fair to lose the 
ascension, I just took his place.” 

“And it was perfectly splendid in you to do it,” she 
said, enthusiastically, but her voice softened when she 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


233 


continued. “But I hope you won’t risk your life any 
more, because you are so brave. Please, Davy.” 

David was silent and somewhat embarrassed. He did 
not understand how to receive a compliment gracefully. 
But a very much more complacent feeling in regard to 
his adventure came over him, and he began to think that 
he was really a fine fellow after all. 

Bosamond again broke the silence. 

“There’s that young Tom Simpson looking for me,” 
she said. “Turn your head away and maybe he won’t 
recognize us. I had this waltz engaged to him before I 
knew that you were coming. I just hate to talk to boys, 
don’t you?” 

Now, as the boy aforesaid was a bare eighteen months 
younger than David, it would seem that David did not 
have very much advantage of him in point of age. But 
there must be an exact instant where a youth ceases to be 
a boy and becomes a man, and as Bosamond had had a 
long experience and had made a careful psychological 
study of the male sex, she certainly ought to be better 
qualified to decide such a point than you or I. Besides, 
it pleases a young fellow to be ranked among the men, 
while his slightly more youthful contemporaries are still 
considered boys. 

But the fact that Tom Simpson was young was no sign 
that his eyes were not sharp, and he quickly discovered 
Bosamond in the moonlight, and came across the balcony 
to the place where she was sitting. 

“Why, Miss Bosa,” he said, in an injured tone of voice. 
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You’ll have to 
hurry. The dance is about half over now.” 

“You could hardly expect me to look for you, you 
know, Tom,” she returned, smiling, but without moving 
from her seat. 


234 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“No, but I thought you would come inside the hall 
when the band struck up. I never thought of coming out 
here.” 

“Why, it’s so much cooler here. Take a chair, Tom, 
and sit down. You must be tired looking for me.” 

“Oh, no, Miss Eosa, come on. The waltz is half over, 
I tell you. You won’t get any of it if you don’t hurry.” 

“It’s hardly worth while to go now,” she replied. “You 
took such a long time coming for me. You had better sit 
down with us where it’s cool.” 

“Oh, I can’t,” he returned, as he started away. “I’ve 
lost most of this waltz now. You mustn’t blame me, Miss 
Eosa, for your missing it. It wasn’t my fault.” 

“Funny how fond children are of dancing, isn’t it, Mr. 
Elmore,” said Eosamond. “No matter how hot it is they 
seem to think they must be dancing every minute.” 1 

When the music ceased a number of the young people 
came out of the hall and interrupted this tete-a-tete on 
the balcony, and Horace and Gwendolyn came with the 
others. 

Gwendolyn did not dance. She would have taken 
pleasure in figuring in a stately minuet, but she consid- 
ered our modem dances entirely too undignified for a 
person of her exalted station, and as minuets are out of 
fashion at present, she preferred to look on when she went 
to a ball. 

She and Horace seated themselves in a corner of the 
balcony; but John Cobbs coming up a few minutes after- 
wards, Horace excused himself and allowed Gwendolyn’s 
lover to take his chair. Our attorney was not the man to 
spoil sport. 

The authoress did not say a word when J ohn sat down, 
and for about half a minute she looked at the moon and 
he looked at her in silence. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


235 


But this rising business man never allowed an oppor- 
tunity to pass unimproved, and in a short time he began: 

“I say. Lady, ain’t you going to speak to me? I reckon 
I ain’t done nothing to make you mad.” 

“I have no desire to have anything more to do with 
you, Mr. Cobbs,” Gwendolyn returned, with a haughty 
stare. “I am very much disappointed in you.” 

“Why, what in — No, I mean, what’s the matter? I 
ain’t done nothing to make you mad.” 

“You know very well what you have done, and it is 
entirely superfluous for me to explain.”' 

“I’m dashed if I know, Lady. I’ve done everything I 
thought you’d like.” 

“You know very well you ran away and left me day 
before yesterday, when everybody was so frightened, and I 
came near fainting. No hero would ever have treated a 
girl that way, and I never will forgive you for it, never!” 

John was entirely dumfounded at this accusation, which 
really was unjust, and for a few seconds he could do noth- 
ing but gasp. He had been so entirely confident that he 
had done everything a brave man could do under the cir- 
cumstances, that this charge from the only person he had 
tried to please acted like a douche of ice-water. But it 
would not be business to refrain from defending his con- 
duct, so he pulled himself together and tried to answer. 

“Why — I — I didn’t,” he stammered. “I didn’t, Lady. 
I tried to grab the bull, but an old fat woman stopped 
me.” 

“You know very well, Mr. Cobbs, that the animal never 
came within thirty feet of the place where I was, and it 
was not coming towards me, either. And you left me to 
faint there all by myself, after taking me into such a dan- 
gerous place, and a thousand people trampled over me, 
and you ran off to rescue some other girl, and I never will 


236 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


forgive yon for it as long as I live, and I never -want you to 
speak to me again.” 

It is apparent that the greatest geniuses are partly hu- 
man, and are swayed by passions quite similar to those 
which govern us. 

John Cobbs was so exceedingly amazed that he even 
forgot to be angry. His conscience was entirely clear of 
the faintest idea of pursuing any other girl, because there 
was really no one in the neighborhood to he compared to 
Gwendolyn from a pecuniary point of view. If he had 
given her any occasion for jealousy, he probably would 
have been pleased that she should show it; but as he had 
not, he could only sit and stare and repeat mechanically: 

“I didn’t. I didn’t. I didn’t.” 

Another young man coming up just then, Gwendolyn 
went off to promenade and left her lover scowling at the 
stars. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


237 


CHAPTER XXIY. 

AN UNPLEASANT CALL. 

D URING the following weeks David renewed his 
attentions to Rosamond Lattimer which had been 
interrupted during the period between the house 
party and the Fair. To be sure, his visits were not fre- 
quent enough to have excited remark in any except a very 
small town, where the topics of social conversation are en- 
tirely inadequate to occupy the time at the disposal of the 
inhabitants. 

Indeed, he could hardly avoid seeing Miss Rosamond 
every few days without being extremely discourteous, be- 
cause that young woman was continually inviting him to 
her house. She had little parties to which she asked him. 
A girl friend would spend the night with her, and she 
would request him to come to see her. And she always 
insisted that he should drop in to tea when he was out 
calling on Sunday evening. Receiving so much hospi- 
tality from Rosamond, as a gentleman, of course, he could 
not avoid occasionally asking her to go out with him, 
which always apparently charmed and delighted her. 

Thus without directly paying David compliments, 
which always embarrassed him, Rosamond was contin- 
ually showing him that he was a person of great impor- 
tance in her life, and that she could fully appreciate his 
good qualities, 


238 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


She frequently asked him to suggest books for her to 
read, and always took pains to discuss them with him 
afterwards, in order to show that she took his advice. At 
her request they recommenced the study of French to- 
gether, and had conversaziones twice a week, where only 
French was spoken. They did not, indeed, conjugate the 
verb aimer in the first person, plural, present tense, in- 
dicative mood; but Kosamond thought she could substi- 
tute the future tense for the present, with an almost cer- 
tainty that the future would stand still until the swift 
revolving wheels of time had overtaken it and merged it 
with the present. 

Of course, David’s love for Columba had not weakened 
in the slightest degree, and he had not yet learned that it 
is possible for a man to love more than one woman in the 
course of his life. He fully expected to live and die a 
bachelor, and that the name of Columba would be found 
graven upon his motionless heart, even as Calais upon the 
heart of Queen Mary. With his total lack of self-esteem 
he did not suspect that Columba had not finally rejected 
him, and her feeble attempts to attract him again were 
unseen or entirely misunderstood. If she smiled at him 
he thought she was laughing at his despair, and he reso- 
lutely tried to control his countenance in order to prevent 
any display of his inner emotions. 

However, when four or five weeks had passed and No- 
vember had nearly arrived, without any formal announce- 
ment of Columba’s wedding; and, indeed, when her friends 
had charitably postponed it for her until spring, David 
began to think to himself that there was no reason why he 
should be angry with her. He could not blame her a 
particle because she preferred another man to himself, and 
so he resolved to visit her occasionally in a friendly way, 
just exactly as if nothing had happened. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


239 


In pursuance of this resolution he boldly marched up 
to Mrs. Wilmot’s front gate one Sunday evening, but 
when he reached that point his legs somehow betrayed 
him and carried him on up the street. This would never 
do at all, and so, after glancing around to see that 
no one was watching, which, as the night was dark, was 
not very probable, he turned and forced himself to try it 
again. The second time he got as far as the front gallery, 
where, looking through the parlor window, he saw Dr. 
Houston calmly reading a newspaper. This appearance of 
proprietorship would have made him run again, and prob- 
ably never return; but his steps sounded so loud in his 
own ears that he could not believe that they did not re- 
sound through all the house ; and the fear of being laughed 
at, if anyone should open the door while he was going 
away, overcame his diffidence and he set his teeth and rang 
a timid peal at the bell. 

The fact is that Columba and Dr. Houston had been 
quarreling again. That is to say that she had been quar- 
reling and the physician listening. There is nothing 
which a weak woman enjoys more thoroughly or utilizes 
to a greater extent, if she has the chance, than the ability 
to impose upon and abuse a strong man. And as Columba 
was absolutely certain that the doctor was so much in love 
with her sweet self that he would stand anything from her, 
she generally said what she pleased to him, and found him 
a very convenient outlet for her bad humor. 

This evening she was unusually severe, and Dr. Houston 
picked up a newspaper and commenced, reading, where- 
upon she flounced out of the room. But, although she was 
not at all in love with the doctor, yet she by no means 
wished the doctor to cease loving her; and so she seated 
herself in the hall for the purpose of making up with him 
when he came out to go home. Thus posted, she saw 


240 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


David when he ascended the steps, but as the shade to the 
other parlor window was down, he could only see a portion 
of the room, and did not suspect that Dr. Houston was 
sitting there alone. 

David rang the bell and waited. No answer. If he 
could have seen Columba’s face as she stood there irreso- 
lutely, and had been able to discern the signs of the times, 
he would have emulated the doctor and refused to take no 
for an answer. But, alas! he lacked the ability, and she 
was his first love. 

He had no other thought but that the young lady and 
her betrothed did not desire any additional company, but 
he could not retreat now, and he rang the bell again. Still 
no response. He turned to go away, when Columba heard 
Dr. Houston stirring, and therefore opened the door. 

“Why, David,” she said. “Is that you? You were not 
going away? You get discouraged very easily.” 

“Why, yes, Miss Columba,” he returned. “I thought 
there wasn’t anybody at home. It’s a fine evening, isn’t 
it?” 

“Yes, it is. Bather chilly though, outside. Come in. 
You haven’t been to see me for such a long time.” 

Here Dr. Houston opened the parlor door. As there 
were frequently visitors for the boarders, some member of 
the family generally answered the bell in the evening after 
the servants had departed, and he had not been in the 
habit of going. 

“Why, hello, Dave,” he said. “Come right in. Co- 
lumba and I were just wondering why you hadn’t been to 
see us.” 

Columba bit her lip. He, of course, had never called 
her by her Christian name without a title. But she could 
not find fault before a third person, sq $he said as they 
went into the parlor and sat down: . 


WINGS AND NO EYES 241 

“Davy is too much interested in somebody else to want 
to see me.” 

"But, you know, Miss Columba,” the doctor responded, 
“when a man goes to see a girl every night in the week he 
might spare a few minutes to come in to see us on Sun- 
day.” 

“But I don’t,” David protested. “I don’t see Miss 
Rosy nearly that often.” 

Dr. Houston laughed sardonically. 

“Why, what a guilty conscience you have, Dave,” he 
said. “Nobody mentioned Miss Rosy’s name. It just 
goes to show that you think about her all the time.” 

“Why, I — I don’t,” stammered David, confusedly. “I’m 
not in love with Miss Rosamond.” 

“Looks mighty much that way,” replied Dr. Houston. 
“But, really, you ought not to he ashamed of being en- 
gaged to such a nice girl. Miss Rosy was the belle of the 
county for any number of years before Miss Columba 
came out. Any man ought to be proud to have a charm- 
ing girl promise to marry him. I feel, that way, I can tell 
you.” 

“There’s nobody promised to marry you. Dr. Houston,” 
Columba broke out. “You take entirely too much for 
granted.” 

The doctor looked at her with an indulgent expression 
upon his countenance, as one would smile at the failure 
of a little child to grasp the object of her desire. 

“Bless your dear little soul, Miss Columba,” he said. 
“1 don’t tell you everything. I have a sweetheart over in 
Vicksburg, and I am going to marry her on the twenty- 
ninth day of next February.” 

Columba was decidedly discomposed. She was not quick 
enough to remember that the next February had only 
twenty-eight days, 


242 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“I don’t believe it,” she responded. “You don’t act 
like you are engaged.” 

“Why, how should a man act when he is engaged?” the 
doctor returned, still laughing. “I can’t go to see her 
and talk sweet things to her every night like Dave does, so 
I come up here to see you instead.” 

“I don’t believe David ever made love to a girl in his 
whole life,” Columba said, and she blushed slightly, but 
not so much as David did, who was thinking of his un- 
successful attempt in that direction on the front gallery 
another Sunday evening. 

“Well, you just ought to hear him talk to Miss Rosy, 
and you would not think so,” the doctor rejoined. “They 
tell me he does it up in the highest style of the art.” 

There was a slight pause in the conversation after this 
speech, and David, naturally desiring to change the sub- 
ject, inquired : 

“Did you go to church this morning, Miss Columba?” 

“No, I didn’t go,” she replied. “It always tires me so 
much to go to church. I don’t believe it does you any 
good to go when you get so tired. I haven’t felt at all 
well to-day, anyhow.” 

“I dropped in at St. Andrew’s this morning on my way 
back from visiting a patient,” Dr. Houston remarked, 
“and the first thing I saw when I got inside was Dave and 
Miss Rosy sitting on a front seat together and singing out 
of the same book. They looked like a couple of married 
people, and they made a handsome couple, too, I tell you.” 

“Why, I didn’t,” David protested, as soon as the doctor 
paused. “I didn’t go to church at all this morning.” 

“Really, Davy, you needn’t be ashamed of it. There’s 
nothing to be ashamed of in going to church with such a 
fine girl.” 

“David never went to church with me,” Columba said. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


243 


Naturally he had not, because he asked her to go once, 
when she declined point-blank, and he never had the 
courage to ask her again. 

“Of course not, Miss Columba,” Dr. Houston inter- 
jected. “A man is not apt to ask a girl to go to church, 
unless he is dead in love with her. You’ll have to go with 
me some Sunday.” 

David’s visit did not last very long, for the doctor’s 
continued innuendoes made it very unpleasant for him, 
and he was not capable of parrying such thrusts. 

When he rose to take leave his tormentor continued: 

“Well, good-night, Dave. I suppose we can’t keep you 
away from Miss Rosy any longer. Come in and see us 
again some other evening.” 

Columba followed David into the hall, whereupon Dr. 
Houston promptly came after her. But she was not to 
be balked in this way; and so, when David had taken his 
hat, she opened the front door and went out with him, 
closing it behind her. 

“Davy,” she said, in a low, embarrassed voice, “you 
must not mind what Dr. Houston says. And please come 
to see me again. I haven’t seen you for such a long 
time.” 

She might have said more, but the irrepressible physi- 
cian came out on the gallery also and interrupted her. 

“Looking at the stars, Miss Columba?” he said. “They 
are certainly brilliant to-night. You better hurry, Dave. 
Miss Rosy will be tired waiting for you.” 

David went home with a feeling of great uncertainty 
pervading his mind. Dr. Houston’s assurance gave him 
every reason to believe in Columba’s engagement; and yet, 
the few words which she said on the gallery made him 
think that possibly it might not be so. He thought that 
she might be only amusing herself in begging him to come 


244 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


to see her, but there was a sincere ring to her voice which 
did not sound like deception. So he resolved to call on 
her again after a reasonable interval had elapsed; and he 
retired to rest that night in a somewhat more comfortable 
frame of mind. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


245 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE PIT OF DESTRUCTION”. 

W HY, hello, Bo !” cried John Cobbs, as he 
walked down Main street that same Sunday 
afternoon. “Come upstairs and have a drink, 
won’t you? I’ve just got some prime ten-year-old rye up 
there from the distiller direct. I’m dashed glad I quit 
buying from that dashed nigger. I get a heap better 
article for less money.” 

John’s taste in liquors was not very nice, and he had 
been entirely satisfied with the blind tiger article. But 
after the proprietor of the illicit dramshop had failed 
him in his burglary enterprise at Castle Montmorency, he 
had, of course, withdrawn his custom. And when he had 
to send for his whisky he thought he might as well get it 
of good quality. 

“Thanks, John,” Horace Layton responded. “I don’t 
care if I do. I haven’t had a drink to-day.” 

John had entirely forgotten his grievances against the 
lawyer, and they had become fast friends during the month 
which had just passed. Sad to relate, Horace had returned 
somewhat to his old habit of drinking under the influence 
of the bookseller’s continual supply of good whisky. The- 
oretically, he had no desire to become a drunkard, and he 
could bring many superior arguments to bear against the 


246 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


custom of drinking alcoholic liquors. But, practically, it 
was easier to accept an invitation to drink than to refuse; 
and John’s frequent solicitation made him imbibe much 
more than he otherwise would have done. 

So they walked upstairs to John’s bedroom, where each 
mixed a glass of the liquor from a quart bottle out of a 
case which the host produced. 

“ Here’s to Gwendolyn,” said Horace, clinking glasses. 
“Hope you’ll have good luck in winning her.” 

“I don’t know, Bo,” John returned, rather sulkily, as 
he sat down on a cane-bottomed chair and stretched out 
his feet. “I’ve rather made up my mind to quit fooling 
with that girl. I’m no dashed nigger to be done like she 
does. If she don’t know a good thing, I reckon there’s 
plenty more that does.” 

“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Horace, sympathet- 
ically, but with an inward chuckle, nevertheless. “I no- 
ticed you hadn’t spoken about her recently.” 

“Well, you know, Bo, I told you I went out there twice 
and that little nigger told me she was sick. I sent her 
out five pounds of ByloEs two or three times, and she 
ain’t never sent no answer. She kept the candy, though, 
all right. Well, I went out there again last Sunday, and 
that dashed black devil told me she had gone driving; and 
I’ll be dashed if I didn’t see her looking at me from the 
upstairs gallery when I drove away. Cost me two dollars 
a pop for a buggy for nothing but her dashed foolishness.” 

“Why, bless my boots, man,” responded Horace, laugh- 
ing, “you mustn’t mind anything of that kind. That’s 
the best sign you could possibly have. All young girls 
treat the men they love that way. It is merely proper 
maidenly coyness. What you want to do is to go again, 
and to keep on going until she lets you in.” 

“But I ain’t no dashed nigger to be done that way. I 


WINGS AND NO EYES 247 

reckon she does want to marry me, but why in h — 1 don’t 
she say so?” 

“My dear fellow, you can’t expect to win a nice girl 
without taking some trouble. But she is worth it. She’s 
a fine creature herself, and then think of her money.” 

“Well, I reckon she is. But what ought I to do, Bo? 
Dashed if I know.” 

“Why, it is simple enough. Just go out there again this 
afternoon, and if they tell you she’s out, say you’ll wait 
until she comes in. And if they tell you she’s sick, say 
you’ll wait till she gets well. And then sit down and wait. 
I’ll bet you a dollar to a dime she comes out after awhile.” 

“But I’d look like a dashed fool sitting ’round waiting 
for a girl that way. If she wants to marry me, why don’t 
she say so and he done with it?” 

“I couldn’t tell you why, John, hut it is the way girls 
are constituted. They say that coyness in maidens origi- 
nated in the old times when men went out and captured 
their wives with the strong arm and the women ran away. 
But wherever it came from it’s here now, and the right 
kind of a girl will always treat a man that she cares for 
that way, if she has any reason to believe that he loves 
her. You had better take my advice and go.” 

“Well, you come go with me, Bo. Dashed if I like the 
idea of sitting ’round waiting for a girl like a fool.” 

Horace considered this proposal for a few moments. 

“Why, that would not he a had idea,” he said. “Of 
course she won’t turn us both away. And after we get in 
I’ll talk to Miss Zenobia and let you talk to Gwendolyn. 
Yes, I’ll go. I’d like to take a drive this afternoon, any- 
how. It’s such a beautiful day.” 

“All right, it’s a go,” said John. “Come up to the 
stable, Bo, and we’ll get a turnout.” 

It was pleasant out of doors that afternoon. Although 


248 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


there had been no frost as yet, the day was cool; and there 
was an invigorating freshness to the air and a glorious 
blue in the wide extending curtain of the sky which filled 
the wayfarer to overflowing with the pure joy of living. 

On the low hills by the roadside great masses of golden- 
rod mingled bright clusters of yellow with the somewhat 
dingy green of their foliage. But these flowers, although 
alive, could not for an instant compete in brilliancy with 
the hue of the dying leaves of the “ Pride of India,” ordi- 
narily called the “China” tree. 

In the clumps of these trees the mingled greens and 
yellows were positively startling in their brightness, and 
contrasted strangely with the bared branches outlined 
against the sky, on which hung the somber berries. And 
yet, the painted leaves had fulfilled their mission in this 
world and were fast going to destruction, while the dark- 
ening berries contained the seed which were the trees’ sole 
hope of immortality. 

If I were now a moralist I could preach you a sermon 
on this text. I could show you how “man looketh on the 
outward appearance but the Lord looketh on the heart.” 
I could prove to you that the tree lavishes the gaudy colors 
upon its worthless leaves, in order to attract attention from 
the virtues residing in the berries and thus preserve them 
from the hand of the spoiler; and that therefore, young 
man, you should marry the ugliest girl you can find, in 
the hope of obtaining a diamond of great price in its coat- 
ing of blue clay. 

But, as you very well know, people nowadays always 
skip the morals, and sermons are not so popular as they 
used to be. Besides, I am sure that no young man would 
take my advice, which would make me feel small, espe- 
cially as I would not take it myself. 

Eor, unfortunately, althoughiyour real ugly woman is apt 


249 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

to be clever, yet she is generally bad-tempered, which is 
the most serious fault in the world. Let me marry a 
pretty-faced fool; may I be united to a slattern. Let her 
be dowdy or vulgar, or do nothing from daylight to dark. 
May she fancy that she is an interesting invalid and spend 
her days on a sofa. Let her even be a blue-stocking, and 
think she enjoys Browning, and talk learnedly of Schopen- 
hauer and of Kant. But oh! good Hymen, in the great 
drawing from your wheel, deliver me from being mated 
with a shrew. 

While I am talking Horace and John are driving, and 
in due time they reached the gates which led into the 
grounds surrounding Castle Montmorency. 

The first thing which attracted the lawyer’s attention 
when the horse stopped was a sign which had recently 
been posted over the carriage gate, and on which he read 
in bright flame-colored letters : 

“All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” 

“Hum,” Horace remarked, “that’s not very encourag- 
ing for a lover, is it? I wonder what new game Gwendo- 
lyn is up to now. I guess she must have put that sign up 
there for your benefit. It’s a plagiarism, too, and I am 
surprised that Gwendolyn should do anything of that 
kind.” 

“Well, what had we better do, Bo?” asked John Cobbs. 

“Oh, we’ll drive in and show her that we are not to be 
scared off so easy,” returned the lawyer, as he jumped from 
the buggy. 

But this was more easily said than done, for he found 
that both gates were not only locked, but absolutely nailed 
up. 

“The lady is certainly determined to keep you out, 
John,” said Horace, laughing. “This is what I call coy- 
ness run to seed.” 


250 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“I reckon we’d better go back, hadn’t we, Bo?” 

“Well, I don’t know about that. What do you say to 
climbing the fence?” 

“I’m in for anything you are. You don’t reckon those 
big dogs are loose, though, do you?” 

“Oh, hardly. I don’t think Gwendolyn would carry it 
that far. You see, you said you had been out here every 
Sunday afternoon, and she just wants to see how persistent 
you’ll be. Anyway, you know faint heart never won fair 
lady, and we will get a couple of big sticks. I see some 
over there will do fine.” 

On the opposite side of the road someone had been cut- 
ting down locust trees for fenceposts, and incidentally 
chopping out some young mulberry saplings which had 
grown up where they were not wanted, and of these our 
friends each selected a stout specimen. 

It was not difficult for active men to scale the carriage 
gate, although it was a high one, and John and Horace 
were soon advancing up the drive which led to the coun- 
try mansion. 

“I don’t exactly see why Gwendolyn had the gates 
nailed up,” Horace remarked. “It seems to me ” 

But what it seemed to him will never be known to mor- 
tal man, for just at that instant the firm and solid earth 
gave way, the mouth of the pit yawned wide, and the 
attorney and his client disappeared from the sight of the 
sun into stygian darkness. 

It was lucky for them that they had obtained the mul- 
berry staffs, because, as they were carrying them on their 
shoulders, they reached across the mouth of the narrow’ 
hole and broke the force of a ten-foot fall, which other- 
wise might have had serious consequences. 

As it was, the young men were considerably shaken up, 
and they indulged in a quantity of bad language, over 


WINGS AND NO EYES 251 

which we will draw the veil of oblivion until they cool 
down somewhat. 

“What in h — 1 do you suppose this thing was put here 
for?” asked Horace, excitedly. 

“Dashed if I know. But how are we going to get out 
of this infernal hole?” 

The excavation was about four feet wide, and extended 
across the driveway leading up to the house. Its orifice 
had been covered with the branches of trees, over which 
gravel was sprinkled, so that the cavity was entirely con- 
cealed. As the sides were perpendicular and about ten 
feet high, the prospect of the speedy release of the prison- 
ers appeared very slight. 

Of course, they must try to escape, however; so John 
endeavored to support Horace on his shoulders; but as 
he was not very strong, and as the attorney was inclined 
to be portly, he could not nearly raise him to the surface, 
and they gave up the attempt in disgust. Even if he had 
been able to lift up his friend, there appeared to be no way 
in which the lawyer could support himself after reaching 
the mouth of the pit, for one of their sticks was broken 
and the other too weak for the purpose. 

“Have you got a knife, John?” asked Horace, after 
they had somewhat recovered their breath. “We’ll have 
to try to dig steps in the dirt.” 

“Why, that’ll take us all night, Bo, and those dashed 
dogs will be loose before we get out. Don’t you reckon 
we can make’m hear by hollering?” 

“I hardly think we can, but we can try. What the 
dickens did Gwendolyn have this thing put here for, any- 
how?” 

But their shouting had apparently no effect in bringing 
them assistance, and John commenced to dig steps at one 


252 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


end of their dungeon, which, as his knife was small, ap- 
peared to be an interminable enterprise. 

John had been working industriously some little time, 
and Horace was looking up at the sky and racking his 
brains for a method of escape, when a most hideous crim- 
son face suddenly showed itself over the edge of the pit, 
surmounted by a pair of short, red horns. 

Horace could not believe his eyes, his first thought 
being that his fall had made him delirious, and he stared 
at the apparition in silence, who returned the compli- 
ment by looking fixedly at him in the gathering gloom of 
the evening, which, of course, was more pronounced under 
ground. 

The devil first broke the silence in a familiar voice. 

“Lawdee, Mister Layton,”' he said, “what you doin’ 
down dar? I ’clar to goodness, I didn’t know ye.” 

At the sound of Cato’s voice coming from such a fright- 
ful source, a light suddenly broke upon Horace Layton’s 
understanding and made clear even the obscurity of the 
pit. Gwendolyn was writing another novel, and John 
Cobbs’ game was up. For the imperfect love of this mun- 
dane sphere could have no chance in her soul against the 
intense emotions conjured up by her vivid imagination. 

John also recognized Cato’s voice from his stooping 
position over the step which he was digging, and he 
started up with a sudden access of fury. 

“You infernal black devil!” he cried, “what do you 
mean — ” But just then he caught sight of the face gaz- 
ing at him, and, seeing that his malediction so unexpect- 
edly described its object, with the exception of the color, 
he paused astounded. 

“Well — I’ll — be — ,” was all that he could get out, until 
Cato likewise recognized him. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 253 

“Is you down dar, too, Mister Cobbs?” he said. “How’d 
you gemmons git down dar?” 

“ Don’t stand there talking like a fool,” Horace shouted. 
“Go get something and help us out! You suppose we 
came here for our health? What do you mean by digging 
a pitfall across your road, anyhow!” 

“Lawdee, Mister Layton, dat’s de bottonless pit whar 
de sinners goes down to de bad place; an’ I ain’t neveh 
suspected to see you gemmons down dar.*’ 

“Ain’t you going to help us out?” cried John. “Dash 
it all, you think we’re going to stay here all night?” 

Thus apostrophised Cato rose to obtain means of as- 
sistance, and our two friends heard him soliloquize as he 
departed. 

“Lawdee, I ain’t neveh suspected to see you two gem- 
mons down dar.” 

He returned after a few minutes with a short ladder, 
by means of which Horace and John speedily regained the 
surface of that world from which they had so recently 
departed. 

J ohn was still exceedingly angry, but the sight of Cato’s 
infernal costume would have even dispelled the divine 
wrath of Zeus, and he burst into a roar of laughter, in 
which his friend joined, and which made the devil look 
exceedingly foolish. 

The negro was attired in a close-fitting suit of a vivid 
red, which branched at his feet into what was supposed to 
represent claws, but which bore a much stronger resem- 
blance to the feet of a duck, greatly enlarged. From the 
base of his spine a curiously contrived tail projected. This 
tail was about four feet long and an inch in diameter, and 
apparently was somewhat difficult for its proud possessor 
to manage; for he had restrained its vagaries by means of 
a piece of string tied to each horn. The foundation of 


254 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


the tail was evidently a coiled wire spring, for it contin- 
ually strained at its tether, and waved its barbed point 
from side to side as a scorpion waves his sting. 

Cato's head was covered with a close-fitting hood sur- 
mounted by the pair of red horns which had first attracted 
Horace Layton’s attention. But it was his face which 
presented the most ridiculous appearance. This was 
daubed over with red paint, and the contrast between the 
flat nose and thick lips of the African countenance and 
the aquiline profile and cynical smile, which are supposed 
to belong to His Satanic Majesty, was enough to make 
Horace roll on the ground with laughter. 

As soon as the prisoners were released from their dun- 
geon, the devil picked up a short, red pitchfork, after an 
apprehensive look towards the house, and stood leaning 
upon it awaiting the pleasure of the laughing gentlemen. 

It was John Cobbs who first regained the ability to 
speak. 

“What’s the matter with you, Cato ?” he asked. “Where 
in h — 1 did you get that funny dress ?” 

“Cato,” said Horace, between his peals of laughter, 
“what’s the matter — with — your tail? What made you 
tie it up? Can’t you — wag it — any better than that?” 

“Tail done brack, Mister Layton,” returned Cato, re- 
gretfully. “Done furgit an’ sot down on ’er dis mawnin’.” 

“What are you wearing it for?” asked John, sharply. 
“Where did you get it, anyhow?” 

“Miss Gwen’len git it fur me, Boss. What she say we 
all does.” 

“It begins to look like our game is up, John,” said 
Horace. “Gwendolyn has evidently begun work on an- 
other novel, and you won’t have any chance to see her 
until it is finished.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


255 


“Dash it all!” exclaimed John, angrily. “After all the 
money I spent on her, too. Look here, old man. Did 
Miss Gwendolyn tell yon to dig this hole?” 

“Dat’s right, Boss. Dat’s jes’ what she did. She done 
say dat’s de bottonless pit whar de sinners goes down to 
de had place.” 

“But we might have broken our necks in there. Ain’t 
you never thought about that?” 

“How’d you git in de gates, Mister Cobbs? Dey’r done 
nailed up.” 

“That’s right, John,” put in Horace. “He’s got us 
there, sure. When people climb in where they are not 
wanted, they must expect to take the consequences. I 
say, Cato, how long have you been a devil, anyhow ?” 

“ ’Bout fo’ days, Mister Layton. We done dug dis 
yere hole las’ Chuseday. Tom done quit de nex’ day, 
’cause Miss Gwen’len want him to be a debbil, too. He’s 
one dese here *Sadurday-Sunday niggers, an’ he’s feared 
dey’ll turn him out’en de church. He’s mighty feared 
dev’ll hear erbout him diggin’ de bottonless pit, but he 
didn’t know erbout it till arter we got troo.” 

“But how about you, Cato?” Horace asked. “I thought 
you were a shining light in the Baptist Church?” 

“Dat’s all right, Boss. We ain’t got no preacher now, 
so dat’s all right. We done had Elder T'omkin, an’ he sho 
did preach de word wid power and stir up de sinners wid 
de fire ob de bad place. But erbout two weeks ergo, when 
mos’ ob de bredderen wus er sellin’ dere craps, he git up 
an’ say he want some money, ’cause he ain’t had none fur 
more’n six months. An’ Brudder Dawden he git up an’ 
he move dat we don’t want no preacher what wants to sell 
de word, ’cause de good book says she’s widout money an’ 
widout price. An’ I done secon’ him and she wen’ troo all 


* Seventh-day Adventists. 


256 WINGS AND NO EYES 

right, so we don’ hab no preacher now, ’cause we ain’t call 
no mo yit.” 

“But, look here, Cato,” said Horace. “How are you 
going to get another preacher, if you don’t pay him?” 

“Oh, dat’ll he all right, Mister Layton. Dat’ll he all 
right. We’s got a big church, an’ dere’s lots’ll jump at de 
chance. Dat’ll he all right.” 

“I reckon we better he going hack, Bo,” John Cobbs 
broke in. “There ain’t nothing to stay out here for.” 

“Why can’t we go up to the house and see Lady Gwen- 
dolyn, Cato? I don’t suppose she works on Sunday, does 
she?” 

Horace knew very well that Gwendolyn never received 
company even on Sunday when she was working on a 
novel. The fair authoress said that the sight of the out- 
side world would entirely divert her train of thought, and 
though she did not generally work on the Sabbath day, 
she always maintained her costume and surroundings. 
But Horace did not wish to appear to be frightened off 
too easily ; although he was not at all surprised when Cato 
replied : 

“Lawdee, no, Boss! I’se sorry, but Miss Gwen’len turn 
me off, sho, if you come up dar. Hope she ain’t seed you 
fo’ dis, hut reckon she’s sleep erbout now.” 

As there seemed to be nothing else to do, John and 
Horace returned to their buggy, and Cato accompanied 
them as far as the gate. With the foresight of a prudent 
man of business, John presented Cato with a dollar, and 
strictly enjoined him to keep silent in regard to the mis- 
adventure of the evening, which the colored individual 
promised faithfully to do. Our bookseller did not wish 
to be the target for further ridicule in regard to his pur- 
suit of the great writer. 

“I say, Cato,” said Horace, pausing for a moment on 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


257 


top of the gate, while his friend was unhitching their 
horse. “ Don’t you get mighty tired standing up all day? 
I suppose you can’t sit down in that tail.” 

“I sho git tired, Boss. But when Miss Gwen’len don’t 
want me I lays down in fron’ an’ goes to sleep. I done 
furgit an’ sit on ma tail dis mawnin’ do. But I don’t hab 
no work to do when Miss Gwen’len dress up, an’ it’s a 
heap easier dan workin’, sho.” 


258 


.WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER XXYI. 

AN AMATEUR INFERNO. 

T HE power to compel Father Time to go forward 
or backward at will, like the shadow on the dial of 
Ahaz at the word of the prophet Isaiah, is one of 
the chief privileges of the novelist. If it was necessary 
for me to recount the humdrum doings of each day as it 
passes, as we unfortunates are compelled to live them, the 
story would become practically endless for you, because 
you would be bored to death before you had finished it. 

But I am trying to exercise a judicious selection and 
omit the least interesting events in the lives of our char- 
acters in the same way that many persons will skip the 
opening paragraphs of this chapter. For, of course, gentle 
reader, it is only the most intelligent people who are will- 
ing to read what the author says about his story. 

I do not, however, approve of the way some writers 
have of making Time retrace his steps for too great a dis- 
tance. It is hard on the old man to be compelled to go 
over the same ground twice; and, as Hezekiah said in 
effect, it is extremely unnatural for the shadow to go 
backward. I once read a story which began with the hero 
in his coffin, and then proceeded to relate how he got 
there. 

So I will not strain your credulity to an excessive de- 
gree, and will only leap over nine days, which will bring 
us to Wednesday afternoon in the week following that 
which began in the last two chapters. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


259 


Dr. Houston had come into Cobbs’ bookstore for the 
purpose of buying some reading matter for Columba Wil- 
mot. Her taste ran entirely in the line of light novels and 
magazines, and he always took care to keep her supplied 
with the very latest. It was one of his cardinal principles 
to make himself indispensable to the woman whom he 
loved and to anticipate her wants as far as possible. 

After buying his literature from Mamye Clay and ar- 
ranging to have it sent up to Mrs. Wilmot’s, the doctor 
stopped on his way out of the store to talk to Horace and 
John, who were standing smoking near the cigar case. 

“Won’t you have a cigar, Doc?” asked John. “I’ve got 
some prime Havanas in here.” 

“No, thanks, Mr. Cobbs,” the doctor returned. “I 
stopped smoking a. long time ago. You know a physi- 
cian has to bend over his patients so much, and their nasal 
organs are generally so sensitive that I thought it would 
be the best policy for me to give it up.”' 

“I reckon it’s business,” 1 John responded, “but I’m 
dashed glad I never got in any line where I’d had to give 
up the weed. Dashed if I could get along without it.” 

“I remember very well the time your patient objected 
to your smoking, Jim,” said Horace, with a smile, as he 
knocked the ash from the end of his cigar. “It was in 
Mrs. Wilmot’s parlor one Sunday evening nearly two years 
ago. You had evidently been smoking just before you 
came in, and I suppose Miss Columba smelt it when she 
shook hands. Anyway, she said she despised a man who 
couldn’t go to see a nice girl without reeking with to- 
bacco, and a good deal more to the same effect, and I 
don’t think you’ve smoked a cigar since. But, Jim, it 
seems to me that you are the patient, and not Miss Co- 
lumba. That’s been nearly two years ago, and you are not 
married yet.” 


260 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“ Dashed if Fd wait that long for a girl,” said John, as 
he tossed his cigar stump out of the store door. “When 
she wants to marry me she’s got to speak mighty quick. 
And, I say. Doc, did you know Dave has come shying 
’round little C’lumby again?”' 

The doctor frowned slightly. He did not like to hear 
his sweetheart referred to in so familiar a fashion. But, 
of course, he had no right to resent anything of the kind, 
and so he replied with a self-satisfied tone to his voice: 

“Yes, I understand Dave has cut me out entirely this 
past week. But it’s as hard on Miss Rosy as it is on me, 
because he hasn’t been to see her since Sunday week. And, 
speaking of angels, here she comes now.” 

“Why, come in, Miss Rosy, come in,” said John. “We’re 
just talking about you.” 

“Nothing bad, I hope, Mr. Cobbs,” said Rosamond, 
pausing for a, moment and bestowing one of her most 
cordial smiles upon the little group of men. 

“No, I was just saying that little C’lumby had done you 
up again. We all just got to thinking you had a cinch on 
Dave, when off he pops after little C’lumby again.” 

“Well, come up and see me, Mr. Cobbs, and we will con- 
dole with each other,” replied Rosamond, as she continued 
her stately course down the store. “I understand that you 
are not allowed at Castle Montmorency any more.” 

With which Parthian shot she left them, and after pur- 
chasing some note paper from Mamye Clay, she stopped 
for a few minutes’ conversation with her. 

John was dumfounded and could make no reply. He 
had extorted a promise from Horace Layton to say noth- 
ing about their late accident at Castle Montmorency, as 
he naturally objected to being laughed at any more in 
connection with Gwendolyn. He had likewise almost 
made up his mind to give up the authoress, if he could 


261 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

find another match which was reasonably desirable. To 
be sure, there was no girl in the neighborhood who was 
worth nearly so much money as Gwendolyn was, and in 
her own right, too. But he thought that she was a fool, 
and did not know a good thing in the way of a husband 
when she saw one. And, besides, Horace assured him 
that it would probably be three or four months before he 
could see Gwendolyn again, which did not suit his ener- 
getic disposition at all. 

When Rosamond spoke, his first idea was that Horace 
had broken his promise of secrecy, and he turned towards 
him with an angry scowl, but Dr. Houston’s comment 
speedily set him right. 

“Yes, Mr. Cobbs,” he said. “I understand Gwendolyn 
has started writing another novel. We all thought that 
she was having enough romance in her own life to satisfy 
her, but it seems that we were mistaken.” 

“I wonder how far back Gwendolyn is going this time?” 
Horace remarked, meditatively. “She started with the 
revolution of 1688, and then went to Cromwell, and she’s 
gone back from war to war until her last story about the 
crusades. I understand it will be out in January. You’ll 
have to lay in a good supply, John. Her stories always 
sell like everything around here.” 

They talked about Gwendolyn and her novels in a 
leisurely manner for several minutes, until David Elmore 
entered the store. 

“Mr. Cobbs,” he said, “here’s a check you forgot to 
indorse when you made your deposit this morning. Our 
runner is sick this afternoon, and as I was just getting 
through, I thought I would bring it over myself.” 

“All right, Davy,” said John, as he took his fountain 
pen out of his pocket. “That’s easy enough to fix. There 


262 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

she is, as large as life. I only wish she was worth a 
million on the other side.” 

When David came into the store, Rosamond left Mamye 
Clay and came towards the front, which she reached just in 
time to hear John Cobbs’ next speech. 

“Oh, I say, Davy,” he said. “I see you’re shying ’round 
little C’lumby again, trying to cut out the Doc here. I 
wish you could of heard her to-day at breakfast. You 
ought to have been there, Hoddy. You’d laughed fit to 
kill. She was telling about how she kicked Dave on the 
front gallery last summer. She said Dave was a-crying 
until he made a big wet spot on the gallery, and she run 
upstairs and left him there. It was mighty funny. You 
ought to been there.” 

“I heard about it when I came down,” said Horace, 
laughing. “Weeping must be the modem style of making 
love. Has Dave ever shed any tears over you, Miss Rosy? 
Because, if he hasn’t, you know, you are not in it at all.” 

“I don’t believe Mr. Elmore ever did anything of the 
kind,” Rosamond returned, indignantly. “Anyway, I 
wouldn’t have a sweetheart who would make fun of me 
that way.” 

David flushed crimson at the ridicule, and after stand- 
ing still and looking at the group in uncertainty for a 
moment, he suddenly turned and left the store, followed 
by the laughter of the three men. 

“My, my, Miss Rosy,” said Horace. “Don’t you wish you 
could get up a color like that ? It would be worth a fortune 
to any girl.” 

“I think it is a great pity, Mr. Layton,” Rosamond re- 
plied, “that men who have so much more reason to blush 
than Mr. Elmore has are unable to do so.” 

Whereupon she also left the store. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 263 

“Why, that’s a kind of a slap, isn’t it?” Dr. Houston 
remarked. 

“Yes; she always does take up for Dave,” said Horace. 
“Well, Dave is a nice hoy, hut I do love to tease him. He 
gets so horribly hacked. That was funny about Miss Co- 
lumba, though, Jim. I guess you are pretty solid up 
there, hut why the dickens don’t you marry her?” 

Dr. Houston did not reply, and when a carriage stopped 
in front of the store just then, Horace continued: 

“Why, bless my hoots, if that isn’t Miss Zenohia. I 
didn’t expect to lay eyes on her for the next three or four 
months.” 

And he ran out to the carriage as a man runs when he 
sees a prompt paying and liberal client. 

“Good-evening, Miss Zenohia,” he said. “Can I do 
anything for you?” 

“Good evening, Mr. Layton,” she replied. “I was look- 
ing for Dr. Houston. They said at the drugstore I would 
probably find him down here.” 

Dr. Houston and John Cobbs had followed Horace out, 
and they also exchanged greetings with the lady in the 
carriage. 

“I hope Lady Gwendolyn is not ill,” the doctor said. 

“No, she’s perfectly well, thank you, Doctor. That 
was not what I wanted to see you about. You see, Gwen- 
dolyn has begun work on another novel, which is going to 
be even better than the last. She’s got a splendid idea for 
it, but she can’t somehow succeed in working it out. She 
spanks Cupid all day long, until I’ve positively gotten 
tired of -hearing the little wretch howl, but it doesn’t seem 
to do any good. She’s only written two pages in over a 
week, and she just can’t get out any more; and she thinks 
she needs some more assistance. And that’s what I came 
in to see you about.” 


264 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“ Anything which I can do, Miss Zenobia,” Dr. Houston 
said, “I shall, of course, he delighted to do.” 

“ Thank you, Doctor. You see, it’s this way : In Gwen- 
dolyn’s story the — ur — well, Beelzebub has carried off the 
heroine to the lower regions, and the hero, of course, goes 
down to rescue her. You see at once what a splendid idea 
it is and how entirely original. There’s nothing at all 
like it in all modem fiction. She expects to make several 
very powerful chapters in describing the surroundings and 
the hero’s combat with — ur — Beelzebub; but that is where 
she has come to a stop. You see, she has never seen any- 
thing of the kind, and never read anything of the kind, 
either, except in Dante, and she don’t think Dante had 
much imagination, anyhow. She read his ‘Inferno’ all 
through, but she don’t think it amounts to much. She 
says he missed so many good chances for fights with the 
devils. He just apparently didn’t see them at all. She 
says nobody will ever read Dante any more after her story 
comes out. And so she sent me into town to get some 
help for a scene from the lower regions to give her an idea 
as to how it looked.” 

“Why, of course we’ll help you, Miss Zenobia,” said 
Horace. “It’s been a long time since I’ve played the devil, 
but I think I can do it again with a little practice. How 
do you think Mr. Cobbs would do for chief devil? Don’t 
you think he looks the part?” 

Miss Zenobia put up her lorgnettes and gazed critically 
at the red-headed stationer. 

“Why, I never thought about it before, Mr. Layton,” 
she said, “but I believe he would do very well.” 

“Here, Bo, that ain’t fair,” John broke out; but Miss 
Zenobia was so much absorbed in the mission on which 
she had been sent that she did not notice this interruption. 
Besides, she considered that she was bestowing a great 


WINGS AND NO EYES 265 

compliment in comparing anyone to a character in her 
niece’s novel, and so she continued, placidly: 

“You see, we want to get a whole lot of colored fire to 
make a circle around Gwendolyn, and then a dozen or 
fifteen young men to act as devils, and one for the hero, 
to rush through the fire and rescue her. We only have one 
available man now, because Tom left on account of the 
costume; and, of course, we can’t dress the women that 
way, because there never were any females; and, although 
we have Cupid dressed in red, yet we can’t put a tail on 
him because — because — oh, well, it would interfere, you 
know. And Gwendolyn says she has no chance for in- 
spiration without some more characters and some colored 
fire. So I went to Wood’s drugstore to order the fire, but 
they don’t know how to make it. Mr. Wood said that pos- 
sibly you had some formulas, Dr. Houston, and so I came 
down here to see if you could help us out.” 

“ Why, when I was studying chemistry I used to inter- 
est myself in fireworks a good deal,” the doctor replied, 
slowly, “and I think I still have some formulas. How 
soon would you want it, Miss Zenobia?” 

“Just as soon as I can get the men. You see, as I said, 
Gwendolyn has come to an entire stop in her story, and 
she is losing hundreds of dollars every day. Can you help 
me to hire some young white men, Mr. Layton? The 
negroes are all afraid to do it.” 

“Oh, we’ll all help you, Miss Zenobia, if it is only for 
one or two evenings,” Horace responded, cordially. “You 
won’t need to hire anybody. I can get you twelve or 
fifteen men who are used to that kind of thing, and who 
will take great pleasure in playing the devil to help Lady 
Gwendolyn out.” 

“It certainly will be kind in you, Mr. Layton,” said 
Miss Zenobia, “and Gwendolyn will appreciate it im- 


266 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


mensely. She thinks one evening will be sufficient to 
furnish the necessary inspiration. How soon could you 
come out?” 

“Why, this is Wednesday, and it will take some little 
time to get the costumes ready and for Jim to get up his 
fire. There’s a performance at the theater on Friday and 
most of the men have engagements, and Saturday, you 
know, is the busy day. I am afraid that we cannot do it 
before Monday night.” 

“Well, that will do very well, Mr. Layton, and Gwendo- 
lyn and I certainly are obliged to you. Just get anything 
you need for the costumes and charge it to Gwendolyn.” 

“All right, Miss Zenobia,” Horace answered. “Mr. 
Cobbs here has a lot of devil masks that will do first rate. 
Old Trescott got stuck on them years ago, and I saw them 
when I was taking an inventory. I think we know the 
costume of the infernal regions pretty well.” 

Here he winked at John Cobbs, who grinned ruefully. 

“But how about the hero?” Horace went on. “You 
said he was to come in and rescue Lady Gwendolyn. What 
costume does he wear?” 

“Oh, he’s a noble Roman,” explained Miss Zenobia. 
“And Gwendolyn is a patrician lady. He ought to wear 
the costume of a Roman soldier.” 

“Well, that’s easy enough. I’ll wire to New Orleans 
for a costume for him to-night.” 

“Couldn’t you get all the dresses there at the same 
time, Mr. Layton? It might save some trouble.” 

“I don’t think it’s necessary, Miss Zenobia,,” said Horace. 
“It would be quite expensive and, really, those false faces 
with red suits and tails and a lot of red fire will answer 
just as well.” 

“And you can rely on me to furnish the fire, Miss Ze- 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


267 


nobia,” said Dr. Houston. “I’ll hunt up my formulas this 
very evening. And Ell play the devil, too.” 

“Oh, I am so much obliged to you gentlemen,” Miss 
Zenobia said, thankfully. “You have taken a great weight 
off my mind. I must tell you good-evening now, as I have 
some shopping to do; but I will see you again on Saturday. 
Drive on, Cato.” 

After the carriage departed, Horace slapped John vigor- 
ously on the back. 

“Well, old man,” he exclaimed, “you’ve got it at last.” 

“Got what. Bo ? I ain’t got nothing.” 

“Why, can’t you see, man, what a chance you’ve got? 
Here’s the lady positively asking you to rescue her, and 
from the devil, too. All you’ve got to do is to dress up in 
armor and drive away the devils, and you’ll make yourself 
solid with her forever and ever.” 

“And put one of them tin things on my head again?” 

“Oh, it won’t have a visor. It’ll be an open helmet.” 

“I’ll be dashed if I do it. I’m no dashed fool.” 

And John Cobbs flung off angrily into his store. 

“That will be the best joke of the season, Jim,” said 
Horace, gleefully, as he and the doctor turned their steps 
down the street after the bookseller had disappeared. “We 
will get him to dress up and go out there to rescue Gwen- 
dolyn, and then we’ll tie him and circle him with colored 
fire and dance around him. It’ll be the richest thing ever 
was.” 

“Well, but how are you going to get him to do it?” 
asked the doctor, doubtfully. “From what he said just 
now I don’t think it will be easy.” 

“Oh, you leave that to me. I know how to work him. 
He thinks Gwendolyn is dead in love with him now, and 
all I have to do is to convince him that she got up this 


268 WINGS AND NO EYES 

scheme just to give him a chance. It will be terribly 
funny.” 

“Y-e-s, but how is Gwendolyn going to like it? Won’t 
it spoil her novel if we get the best of her hero? I can’t 
afford to make Gwendolyn mad. She pays twenty-five 
dollars a visit. To be sure, she’s doggoned healthy these 
days, but she might have a sick heroine in her story any 
time.” 

“Oh, Gwendolyn won’t mind at all. In fact, I think 
she would rather have it that way. You see, she has 
just started her story, and if the hero were to rescue the 
heroine in the first chapter there wouldn’t be anything else 
to write about. It’ll be terribly funny. We’ll tie him to a 
tree and dance around him and howl. It won’t be the first 
time the devil has gotten the best of him, either.” 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


269 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE BAGGED EDGE OF LOVE. 

D AVID left the store scarcely knowing what he did. 
He did not see Rosamond come out after him, and 
he did not return to the hank to put his hooks 
away; but he walked straight ahead, speaking to no one. 

His heart was as nearly broken as it is possible for a 
heart to he. 

The thought that he had loved this woman for years, 
and indeed still loved her; and she was so utterly dead to 
every sense of honor, of refinement, of kindness even, that 
she could make fun of the highest and holiest emotions 
that the human heart is capable of, crushed his soul to 
the earth. 

He was the very personification of honor himself, and 
he would have been tom in pieces by wild horses before 
his lips would have breathed a syllable derogatory of the 
woman whom he loved. 

The fact that, as he supposed, she was unwilling to 
marry him was as nothing compared to this. He had al- 
ways hitherto thought himself entirely unworthy of her 
love, and that she should withhold it and bestow her favor 
on another man had never excited any resentment in his 
breast. 

But now — now — She was the unworthy. She was as 
thoroughly despicable as the dirt beneath his feet. And 
his indignation began to give place to anger, 


270 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


You know that Love and Hate are twin brethren, while 
Indifference is a very distant eousin. 

He would show her that he also could be ill-bred. He 
would go to her house at once and upbraid her for her 
cruelty. But no! No! He realized that the tumult in 
his bosom would prevent his lips from forming the re- 
proaches which his heart desired. 

No, he would write to her. He would be bitter and 
severe and say cutting things which would cause her to 
quiver and shrink. He would prove to her that he could 
be brutal as well as she, and she would grovel on the 
ground and weep when she read them. Oh, he would 
hold up a mirror before her and she should see how base 
and contemptible her conduct had been, and how thor- 
oughly unworthy she was of possessing the love of an 
honest man. He would go at once and 

What a fool he was ! To think that a woman so infa- 
mous as to hold up his love to ridicule could be affected 
by anything which he could say! Bather would she take 
pleasure in his pain. Moreover, would she not show his 
note to amuse her friends? And he saw her read it to a 
group of men, his rival among them, who roared with 
laughter when she finished. 

No, decidedly, it would not do. He must bear his pain 
in silence and display his contempt of her conduct only 
by indifference. 

And then arose in his meditations the stately form and 
smiling face of Bosamond Lattimer. He thought how 
kind she had been to him, and how thoroughly congenial 
they were. She would never have treated him so shame- 
fully. And for the first time in his life the idea that he 
might some day marry another woman than Columba 
Wilmot now came over him. 

Why Columba should have done this thing is somewhat 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


271 


difficult for the obtuse masculine mind to comprehend. 
Even a woman cannot always understand the impulses 
which incite a young girl to any given course of action. 
But in this instance I think that I can supply you with 
a wavering shadow of the cause of her conduct. 

David had been to Mrs. Wilmot ? s several times during 
the past week, and the boarders, who had a suspicion of 
the real state of affairs, with their usual pachydermatous 
delicacy, had been teasing Columba about him most un- 
mercifully at the breakfast-table. This embarrassed her 
exceedingly, and she tried to defend herself in the worst 
possible way by making fun of the man she loved and by 
exaggerating his embarrassment while she said nothing 
about her own. 

For, my young maiden reader, if you are easily hacked, 
as the saying is, take my advice, and when people try to 
tease you, admit everything and more. Say you worship 
the very ground on which the feet of Edgar tread, even if 
it happens to be partially true; and then go on and state 
you are to elope with him that very night, and invite your 
would-be teasers to witness the rope ladder performance. 

You may be certain that this will take the wind entirely 
out of their sails, for when you thus “blanket” them and 
take their motive power for your own, you win the race 
with ease, while their sails flap idly against their masts. 

But Columba had too little experience to understand 
this rule; and, like most young people, she sought safety 
in denial, and tried to strengthen her position by ridi- 
culing the person about whonushe was teased, and in doing 
this she placed herself in another unfortunate position. 

For you may also be assured, in affairs of this kind, that 
if your best friends can ruin your life by repeating what 
you say, they will run their feet off to find the proper per- 
son to tell it to. The only way to keep a secret is to retain 


272 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


it in your own bosom, and the breakfast-table at a board- 
ing-house is simply perdition. 

Even if Columba had known, however, that David 
would be told of what she said, I doubt if she would have 
refrained. She was thoroughly convinced that he loved 
her, and her natural vanity caused her to believe that she 
could do what she pleased without changing him in the 
least. And, besides, she had a living example of a similar 
constancy in her other lover. 

Dr. Houston went to church with her the following 
Sunday, and, most curiously, he was not called out once 
during the service. 

“Miss Columba,” he said, when they were walking home 
together, “I want you to go out with me to Castle Mont- 
morency to-morrow evening to see Mr. Cobbs rescue Lady 
Gwendolyn from the infernal regions. It is going to be 
exceedingly spectacular.” 

“No, I can’t go,” she replied. 

“But why not? Quite a number of young people are 
going. It may be your only chance to see Gwendolyn at 
work on a novel.” 

“I do not wish to go. Dr. Houston. That certainly 
ought to be sufficient.” 

“ Oh, of course, of course. If you don’t want to go that 
settles it. But a number of your friends are going, and I 
thought you might like it. Dave is going to drive Miss 
Rosamond out behind his father’s fast horse.” 

She turned very pale and looked at him steadily. 

“I don’t think it would be proper for me to go with 
you,” she said. 

“I have arranged all that, Miss Columba,” Dr. Houston 
returned. “You see, we wanted some chaperones, and 
Mrs. Medlock was just crazy to go, so a lot of us got 
around Mr. Medlock anfi finally persuaded him to go. It 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


273 


was hard work, though, because he thought it wouldn’t be 
clerical. But I told him the devils would get the worst 
of it, which would be exactly in his line, and finally he 
promised to go. You know I take rather a prominent part 
in the performance. I couldn’t very well get out of it, 
because Lady Gwendolyn is such a good patient; and as I 
did not like to leave you in a buggy out there by yourself, 
I have arranged for a two-seated drag, and we will take 
Mr. and Mrs. Medlock with us.” 

“I think you take a good deal for granted in making 
all your arrangements before you asked me to go. I’m not 
going.” 

“ Really, Miss Columba, I couldn’t ask you until I found 
some man to leave you with out there. I tried to get out 
of taking part in it, but Miss Zenobia insisted that I 
should do it. David refused positively, so he could go 
with Miss Rosamond, but as they are going to be married 
in January, he had a better excuse than I had.” 

“That’s not so, Dr. Houston.” 

“I think you will find I am right, Miss Columba. He’s 
been to her house every night this week, and he went to 
church with her this morning, too. She’s got a brand- 
new solitaire that is the finest stone ever brought to Ju- 
dithland.” 

This latter statement was entirely untrue, but then you 
know “At lovers’ lies, Jove laughs.” 

By this time they had reached Mrs. Wilmot’s front gal- 
lery, and Columba walked across it without pausing. 

“Well, I’ll go,” she said. 

And without another word she went into the house and 
left the doctor outside. 


274 


.WINGS AND NO EYES 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE FLAMES OF TARTARUS. 

I T was one of those glorious nights in November, for 
which our Southern States justly ought to be famous. 
People who have been fed on English literature, or 
who have spent their lives on some cold, damp shore, 
should come to the South in the late autumn if they wish 
to know what a perfect climate really can be. 

The air was barely cool enough to allow a light wrap to 
be worn without discomfort, and it possessed a balmy 
freshness which made a man despise the narrow brick and 
timber caverns of civilization, and long to spend the re- 
maining years of his allotted time, as his forefathers did, 
under the broad roof of heaven. 

On the road to Castle Montmorency great sweet-gum 
trees interlaced their arching branches, as yet untouched 
by frost, and formed dark tunnels through which a joyous 
crew sped merrily. Not a breath of wind stirred their 
leaves, and save for the laughter of its human component 
and the sound of the horses’ feet on the hard clay road, a 
mighty peace overawed the landscape. 

The crescent moon danced winningly among her few 
surrounding stars in the cloudless sky and shed a copious 
supply of fairy light upon a mysterious world. Gladly 
would she have penetrated to the solemnity in the park at 
Castle Montmorency, but the magnolias were inexorable, 
and only permitted a stray beam now and then to creep 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


275 


through their leaves and assure the company that, al- 
though excluded from their assembly, she was yet waiting 
in patience to light them on their homeward way. 

But if the celestial light had been able to enter, it would 
speedily have been quenched by the infernal, for the fires 
of Tartarus were about to arise, and the “ greatest novel- 
ist of any age,” as the heroine of her own story was a pris- 
oner in the realms of Hades. 

From the place on the road where the vehicles were 
stationed, each with a man at the horses’ heads, she could 
be dimly perceived as a white image under the trees, 
while dark forms walked to and fro between, and the few 
girls who had been permitted to witness the function from 
the carriages eagerly awaited the kindling of the fires. 

The remaining preparations were soon made, and a 
bright, white light flashed up, which speedily spread until 
the noble patrician lady in the chair was surrounded by a 
circle of fire some twenty feet in diameter. It was fortunate 
that the night was still, for the dense fumes which rose 
straight up would have come dangerously near suffocating 
her had any breeze been stirring. 

In the brilliant light the authoress was seen tied to a 
chair with broad, red bands. Her palla , or mantle, of 
pure white wool, the color of innocence, was artistically 
draped around her form to shield her from the chilly air, 
and it hid from view the greater portion of her tunica. 
Except for the broad blue band around its skirt, however, 
this latter garment was also white, so that it was hardly 
distinguishable from its covering. The head which con- 
tained her marvelous brain was bare, except for the long 
black hair, which was elaborately braided and twined 
about it. One large arm alone appeared to the view of 
the onlookers, the other being concealed by the folds of 
her mantle. 


276 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

Leaning her chin upon her hand in her favorite position, 
Gwendolyn gazed fixedly upon the scene, while mighty 
thoughts rushed through her soul. 

Some twenty demons, all attired in red from cloven foot 
to tip of horns, stood motionless around the circle of fire. 
The face of each was, if possible, more hideous than the 
other; for Trescott’s masks were the best procurable, and 
well adapted for use on the present occasion. A pitch- 
fork on the shoulder of each scarlet form warned the pos- 
sible intruder that they were able to defend the inestima- 
ble prize which their leader had won. 

And now the white light changed to blue, and with 
horrid yells the devils began to dance around the circle. 
Slowly they went at first, but they soon increased their 
speed, and leaped into the air and tossed their weapons 
aloft with Satanic glee, while their frightful laughter 
resounded through the night. They seemed to rejoice in 
their work, and to anticipate with pleasure the approach- 
ing tortures of their victim. 

What thoughts passed surging through the brain of ever- 
lasting genius as she gazed upon her captors. Surely such 
surroundings should inspire her to work which would live 
on from age to age till time shall he no more. 

I would not tell everybody, inquisitive reader, but be- 
tween you and me, I will reveal that she was regretting the 
impossibility of photographing the scene at night and 
planning to have it repeated before the camera in day- 
light. What a splendid full-page picture it would make 
for one of the illustrated weeklies. “Gwendolyn Rowena 
Montmorency at work.” “How the celebrated novelist 
produces her world-famous stories.” That certainly was 
a splendid idea, and worth all the trouble of the prepara- 
tion of the spectacle. Though to be sure, it had been 
somebody else’s trouble; for Gwendolyn’s only share, be- 





The Flames of Tartarus 





WINGS AND NO EYES 


277 


sides writing the dialogue, had been in allowing her maid 
to dress her and in walking out to her chair. 

Soon auspicious flashes of red began to appear in spots 
around the circle of blue fire, which signaled to the heroine 
the approach of her rescuer, and the fiends began to gather 
at the side of the ring, toward which, with mighty strides, 
the hero drew near. 

He wore the Roman helm of the earlier period, with its 
smooth, round top and its cheek and neck-guards. His 
cuirass of bright steel covered breast and back over his 
tunic. One bare arm bore a convex shield of small size, 
while his right hand waved aloft the short Roman sword. 

The red flame had now quite overcome the blue, and in 
its lurid glare the chief devil drew himself up to interro- 
gate the intruder, while the infernal crew grouped them- 
selves around him. 

“ Temerarious mortal!” cried the fiend, “how darest 
thou penetrate the stygian blackness of the pit and inter- 
rupt our diabolical revels.” 

“At the bidding of love,” returned the Roman, “there 
is naught that I dare not do. Your devilish arts have 
enabled you to carry from the light of day one whom — one 
whom — oh, dash it all, one whom — whom I’m stuck on, 
you know, and if you don’t let her go I’ll bust your head.” 

“Think not, stricken mortal,” the devil replied, “that 
the feeble arm of clay can contend with the everlasting 
essence which resides in the limbs of the inmates of these 
regions. Retire, retire, while yet ’tis time and leave your 
lost love to my pleasure. Never more shall you view her 
fairy form. Never more shall her bright eyes see the light 
of day. Here with me shall she spend the long years of 
eternity and shall reign the queen of all the devils. Re- 
tire, base mortal, retire, while yet ’tis time, and leave your 
adored one to my pleasure.” 


278 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

“You needn’t think you can scare me,” cried the sol- 
dier. “If you want to fight, come on, and don’t stand 
there gassing all night.” 

“Prepare, then, for death, rash mortal, and as your soul 
takes flight let it remember that I possess your love.” 

Only the pen of a Gwendolyn, or possibly a Milton, 
could graphically describe the combat which now ensued 
in the red glare of the flame. Neither Homer nor Dante 
could have risen to such an occasion. 

The soldier rushed furiously upon his foe with the short 
sword, which the devil met with his pitchfork. 

To and fro they struggled amid the shouts of the semi- 
circle of fiends, while the lady in the chair shrieked en- 
couragement to her lover. 

Blow after blow the devil received harmlessly upon his 
pitchfork, and for a time the issue of the combat seemed 
to waver in the balance. 

But no! Look there! 

The noble Roman is forced upon his knee. He rises, but 
again he falls. The maiden screams in anguish. With 
indomitable courage he continues the combat, one hand 
upon the ground, and again and again he wards off the 
fiery thrusts of the double prongs. Thus fought Christian 
in the valley, and thus the old enemy frequently gets the 
advantage of us all. Scream, maiden, scream, for your 
hero is in deadly peril. 

In this world you may often remark that the actors de- 
cline to play their allotted parts. The child born into 
rags dies in satin, and the youth of the palace ends his 
days in the poorhouse. He who cannot buy books be- 
comes the learned professor, while the owner of vast libra- 
ries is an ignoramus. 

It was thus with Gwendolyn’s romantic drama. In the 
stage directions, written out by her own fair hand, the 


279 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

demons were to contend with her liberator one to one, with 
a due regard to fair play. After being forced to the 
ground and fighting thus for a time, the hero was to gain 
new vigor from Mother Earth, spring to his feet, put the 
fiends to flight and carry the lady to her castle in the 
upper world. 

But whether it was that demons are naturally perverse 
and have a hatred of fair play, or whether due to a signal 
from their leader, I know not; but certain it is that the 
horrid throng rushed upon the prostrate hero, bound him 
to a tree in a jiffy, and while wild yells drowned his ex- 
ecrations, they performed a Satanic dance around him in 
a glare of green fire. 

The chief devil left his company at the beginning of 
this attack and took his place beside a female form on the 
rear seat of a drag, which a few minutes afterwards started 
down the road. 

“Why, look a-here. Dr. Houston,” said a lively woman’s 
voice from the front seat, “that wasn’t the way I expected 
it to end.” 

“You are right, Mrs. Medlock,” the doctor replied. 
“And it wasn’t the way Mr. Cobbs expected it to end, 
either. But it was funny, wasn’t it?” 

“Cobbs will be fighting mad about that thing,” Mr. 
Medlock said, laughing. “You fellows had better keep 
out of his way for a few days until he cools down.” 

“He hasn’t any idea who they were,” returned the phy- 
sician. “He knew that Horace and I were to be in it. He 
had to practice the combet with me. But I never touched 
him, and Horace was conveniently called out of town this 
afternoon and went and told him how sorry he was. That 
was the reason we made him go out first this evening, »o 
he couldn’t find out who were in it.” 


280 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

“But how are they going to turn him loose ?” asked the 
preacher. “He’s fighting mad right now.” 

“Why, they are not going to. They’ll he along pretty 
soon after us.” 

“You’re not going to leave him there all night, Dr. 
Houston,” said Columba, sharply. 

“ Oh, no. Cato will untie him after we get a good start. 
You needn’t worry, Miss Columba. His buggy is out 
there, and he won’t have any trouble in getting to town.” 

“Don’t you think Gwendolyn will have her hero into 
the house and give him something to revive him?” asked 
Mrs. Medlock. “I certainly should, if I were she.” 

“I couldn’t say, Mrs. Medlock,” the doctor answered, 
laughing. “But I don’t think Lady Gwendolyn approves 
of heroes who get the worst in their fights. I doubt if he 
sees any more of her to-night.” 

“It was real mean to treat him that way,”’ Mrs. Med- 
lock remarked. “But I declare it was awfully funny. How 
he must have felt when he was tied to a tree just when he 
was expecting to rescue his lady-love. Your scene was 
very realistic, too. Dr. Houston; but for goodness’ sake 
don’t tell anybody Mr. Medlock and I were out here. Our 
congregation would never get over it.” 

“ Yes, and I think I was inveigled out here under false 
pretenses, Doctor,” Mr. Medlock observed, good-na- 
turedly. “It seems to me that I remember being informed 
that the devils were to get the worst of it. It is not in my 
line of business to assist at a function where a soul is 
overcome by the principle of evil.” 

The doctor made a laughing reply, and the three contin- 
ued the conversation with small assistance from Columba. 
This lady had looked very little at the performance in the 
park. She did not like such sights in the first place; and, 
besides, she spent her time in watching the occupants of 


281 


WINGS AND NO EYES 

a buggy not far distant, in which a black figure appeared 
beside a large white one. She had recognized Rosamond 
Lattimer in her famous shawl, now finished, wonderful to 
relate, and she easily guessed who the man was with her. 

The drag had gone through the park gate and had trav- 
eled some little distance on the road to town, when the 
quartet heard the sound of a horse’s feet approaching rap- 
idly behind them. 

“Look there, Miss Columba,” whispered Dr. Houston, as 
the buggy passed them. “What did I tell you Sunday?” 

And, indeed, in the moonlight, a black band about the 
size of a man’s arm could be distinctly seen around Rosa- 
mond Lattimer’s waist. 

Columba gave only one look, and then resolutely turned 
her face away. She took no part in the conversation, not 
even replying when spoken to, and said nothing more 
until she and Dr. Houston were alone on her own front 
gallery. Mr. Medlock had kindly offered to return the 
drag to the stable. He had not yet forgotten the time 
when he was courting, himself. 

“Dr. Houston,” Columba began, in an agitated tone 
which was scarcely audible, “you have several times asked 
me to marry you.” 

“True, Miss Columba, and I have not changed my 
mind.” 

“Would you marry me when I don’t care for you at 
all?” 

“Certainly I would. That will come later.” 

“Well,” she said, hastily, her voice in a quiver, “I’ll 
marry you to-night. Go call Mr. Medlock back. Hurry 
up.” 

“What! to-night, Miss Columba?” he asked, wonder- 
ingly, “to-night?” 

“I said to-night. Dr. Houston.” 


282 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“But look at my costume. You surely cannot mean 
to-night. Why not to-morrow or next week?” 

And he opened his long overcoat and faintly displayed 
his suit of red in the light of the now setting moon. He 
had left his mask in the drag. 

“It will he to-night or never,” she returned. “You can 
take your choice.” 

“Why, of course, Miss Columba, I am only too glad to 
marry you at any time. I was a little bit surprised, that’s 
all. It’s just twelve o’clock, and I’ll go change my clothes 
and get Mr. Medlock and a license. You can expect me 
back about two, and we will take the three o’clock train 
for New Orleans. If you only knew how ” 

“No, you are not to kiss me,” she said, and she went 
into the house and shut the door. 


.WINGS AND NO EYES 


283 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

MAMYE HAS THE LAST WORD. 

H OW did David Elmore feel the next morning 
when he was told about the marriage of the 
woman whom he had loved ever since he could re- 
member? Although he was sure she was unworthy, yet, 
of course, he still loved her. Real love is not so easily 
overcome, and even if it never forgives a serious offense, it 
yet takes time, a long time, for its annihilation. 

But he felt very much as King David felt on the death 
of his child. While the loss of his lady-love was only pros- 
pective, his despair was great, and almost led him to the 
grave of a suicide. After the blow had fallen, however, 
and his sweetheart was irretrievably wedded to another 
man, he grieved in secret, it is true; but he presented a 
calm exterior to the outside world, and people speedily 
forgot his fondness for Columba and busied themselves 
with speculating how soon Rosamond would become his 
wife. 

After all, how few of us marry our first loves. We rave 
and sigh and versify over Saccarrissa, which naturally 
bores her, and then we calmly settle down and marry 
Martha, who is an excellent housekeeper, and has a nice 
little income all her own. We do not sigh any more, and 
we seldom even read poetry; but we are very comfortable 
and have a growing family of interesting children gathered 
around us. 

But to you, my dear maiden, who have so patiently and 


284 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


sweetly borne with me through the story to the very last 
chapter, I owe an apology. Bless your little heart, I know 
the kind of fiction you adore. You wish a heroine who 
is the most ravishingly beautiful creature the world has 
ever seen, and for a hero the strongest and handsomest 
man who ever lived. The fact that they appear in every 
romance with different names does not matter. They 
must have troubles and misunderstandings, of course, but 
you always look forward with joyous anticipation to the 
last chapter, where the wedding takes place. 

Really, while you think such tales are perfectly lovely 
and you thoroughly enjoy every minute of them, they are 
entirely unnatural, and it may be as well that you should 
read a plain, ordinary story once in awhile to prevent you 
from having too high a standard by which to measure 
your lovers. 

If every man was compelled to save a woman’s life before 
he married her, as Lady Gwendolyn, and in fact most nov- 
elists insist, there would be but few weddings in this 
world. And if the opportunities were to come as they do 
in stories, I fear that it would be necessary to revive the 
songs about dead maidens our mothers were so fond of. 

Even in the old romantic days you pine for, the knight 
of the Kingdom of Micomicon was almost nonexistent. 
The ideal of chivalry required that he should gladly lay 
down his life for the protection of the ladies and the poor 
and defenseless. But if you delve somewhat deeply into 
history you will find that in practice the good knight 
spent his time in oppressing the weak. He fought for his 
wife, of course, just as he fought to save his other prop- 
erty. But if it came to the pinch of sacrificing his lady 
to save his own skin, or even his castle, his lady generally 
went. He could get another wife much easier than he 
could get another skin, or another castle. 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


285 


I see Mrs. Medlock coming this way with Mamye Clay, 
and of course you know that women must always have the 
last word. It is Thursday afternoon in the same week 
which we have been considering. 

“Did you know Dr. Houston and Columba came back 
this morning, Mamye ?” Mrs. Medlock inquired. 

“Yes’m. I saw him at a distance myself. They stayed 
a mighty short time.” 

“Yes, he said he couldn’t leave his patients any longer. 
They tell me that he smoked a cigar the day after the 
wedding — you know how Columba despises it — and when 
she started to object he told her politely that he had been 
putting up with her had temper for three years, and that 
it was his turn to rule now. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised 
if she wound up by falling in love with him. Girls are 
such funny creatures. Did anybody tell you about the 
wedding the other night?” 

“Why, no ma’am. I haven’t heard anything.” 

“Mr. Medlock never tells anything, except to me, and 
I have to pump him until it’s horribly exasperating. But 
I never let him rest until I get everything out of him. Dr. 
Houston came after him just as we were taking a little 
lunch before going to bed. He had found the clerk some- 
where downtown and got his license. He had to go change 
his clothes, but he came hack in about an hour, and he 
and Mr. Medlock went off together. I wanted awfully to 
go, but he wouldn’t ask me, although I hinted around a 
good deal. He didn’t seem to be in a very good humor, 
either. Mr. Medlock didn’t come hack for more than two 
hours, and he wouldn’t tell me anything at all that night, 
but I got it all out of him afterwards.” 

“I think it was a mighty funny way to get married,” 
said Mamye, much interested, when Mrs. Medlock paused 
to take breath. 


286 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“Yes, it was, Mamye. I think Columba’s a big little 
fool. Mr. Medlock said that when they got over there the 
parlor was lit up, but they had to wait a long time before 
she and her mother came down. He said Columba’s eyes 
were all red and swollen, and she never said a word, but 
just went through the ceremony, and they barely had time 
to catch the three o’clock train. After they were gone 
Mr. Medlock says Mrs. Wilmot just broke down and went 
to crying, and let it all out. That woman never did have 
any backbone. I don’t see how she has ever managed to 
keep a boarding-house. I never would have let my daugh- 
ter marry a man that way.” 

“Why, how was it, Mrs. Medlock?” 

“Why, she said Columba came upstairs and made her 
start packing her trunk, and then regularly went into hys- 
terics, and she had no end of a time with her. She said 
David Elmore proposed to her last summer and she ran 
upstairs and left him. She just couldn’t help it. And he 
wouldn’t come back, and she encouraged Dr. Houston just 
for spite, and he was going to marry Rosamond Lattimer; 
and she wished she was dead; and she saw him with his 
arm around Rosamond; and she was going to marry Dr. 
Houston; and Mrs. Wilmot said she cried and went on at 
a great rate. And, really, Mamye, it wasn’t anything but 
the back of the buggy. Mr. Medlock and I both thought 
he had his arm around Rosy when they first passed, but 
when they got to a lighter place in the road we saw what 
it was. I think Columba was a big little fool.” 

“That was a funny wedding,” Mamye said. 

“Yes, and as I said, Mamye, I shouldn’t be a bit sur- 
prised if Columba fell dead in love with her husband. 
Women are queer creatures, anyhow. They love to impose 
on a man, and they despise him if he lets them do it. 
There was a man in love with me once who would stand 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


287 


anything in the world I did, and the way I used to impose 
on him was a caution. I remember once I had promised 
to go driving with him, and he came after me with a pair 
of fine hay horses which were so frisky he couldn’t leave 
them alone in the street. There wasn’t anybody to hold 
them for him. And I kept him sitting there in that buggy 
for more than an hour, while all the neighborhood was 
laughing at him, and then sent him word I had changed 
my mind and wouldn’t go. And, bless you, he came to see 
me that very night, and never said a word about it. I 
hate a man with so little spirit.” 

“Do you think David will marry Rosy now, Mrs. Med- 
lock?” Mamye asked. 

“I shouldn’t he a bit surprised if he did in course of 
time. She has apparently made up her mind to marry 
him, and a girl like her can get almost any man she 
chooses, if she only has a fair chance. I could have mar- 
ried any man I knew when I was Rosy’s age. And, really, 
Mr. Elmore will do a great deal better if he marries her. 
Men never know what’s good for them, anyhow. She is 
unquestionably the best-looking unmarried woman in this 
part of the country, and she has more sense in her little 
finger than Columha’s got in her whole head. She thor- 
oughly understands how to manage him, too. Oh, by the 
way, Mamye. I wanted to ask you. How did Mr. Cobbs 
like the way they treated him the other night?” 

“Why, he’s been mad as a hornet all the week. I keep 
out of his way all I can. He wants to fight, but he hasn’t 
found out who did it. Mr. Layton said he was out of 
town, and Mr. Medlock told him Dr. Houston came to you 
before the other men jumped on him, and he ain’t found 
out who they were. And then when he heard that Gwen- 
dolyn had gone, he was madder than ever.” 

“Gwendolyn has actually gone, has she?” 


288 


WINGS AND NO EYES 


“Yes’m. She and her aunt went to Europe yesterday. 
Mr. Layton is going to run her place for her while she’s 
gone. She told him she didn’t know when she’d come 
back. She said her hero getting so badly beat was too 
much for her story, and she’d given? it up.” 

“So that is the end of Mr. Cobbs’ matrimonial scheme,” 
observed Mrs. Medlock. “I guess you’ll have to marry 
him yourself, Mamye.” 

“I only wish I could,” said Mamye Clay. 

* % * * Ht * * 

Have you ever remarked the patient perseverance which 
the world displays in whirling around? We cling to its sur- 
face, get all of it that we can, and at last are thrown off into 
eternity. But still the old earth turns and turns, with never 
a thought of us. Among so many revolutions it would really 
be surprising if two or three were not effected in the hearts 
of our young friends, whom we are about to leave forever. 

Nearly a thousand of the earth’s daily movements were 
required to verify Mrs. Medlock’s prediction, and that lady 
herself had revolved away from J udithland in the Methodist 
itinerancy, before the stars twinkled joyfully upon a June 
evening when Rosamond and David were married. 

After Dan Cupid has conducted his worshipers down the 
church aisle, amid the entrancing strains of the wedding 
march, he transfers their adoration to his brother Hymen, 
and departs in search of other followers. And as the giddy 
little god is satisfied with his work, we may be likewise, and 
rest assured that love and a minister are the only requisites 
for a happy marriage. 

Prominent among the guests at the wedding were Mr. 
and Mrs. John Cobbs. For, some time before this, Mamye 
Clay had taken her employer’s advice and changed her situa- 
tion. John thought that if he could not marry a girl who 
had money, he at least could get one who was worth it ; and 


WINGS AND NO EYES 289 

if Mamye was not worth a million as a wife it was not be- 
cause she had missed her vocation. 

Dr. and Mrs. Houston live with the doctor’s mother, 
and two tiny children play in their front yard. Instead of 
one woman to sing his praises, the good doctor now has two ; 
and the dowager continually points to her daughter-in-law 
as a wonderful example of her son’s skill. For you must be 
told that Columba has grown stout. I personally believe 
that her improved health is due to the change of her 
thoughts from herself to her husband and children, and not 
to any other medicine. Besides, you know, that if a doctor 
has good sense he does not often prescribe for his own 
family. 

The great authoress is still in Europe. The shock of that 
fatal night was too much for her delicate nerves, and it 
seems to have cut short the production of her novels. This 
is hard on her admirers, and I understand that she daily 
receives many requests for more, but so far she has not felt 
able to comply. 

Horace Layton continues his practice in the same old 
way. He thinks that both politics and love are too much 
bother, and after his sad experience I do not believe that 
we ought to blame him. He has made no more trips to the 
infernal regions, and has entirely given up playing the devil. 
This is as it should be ; for after a man has sown his wild 
oats it is best for him to leave them, if possible, and to allow 
his crop to remain in the field unreaped. 


THE END. 


J|!W 7 1904 









i 

1 




